feeling like a dehydrated desert flower
this morning: i reached my limit of listening to yoga-girl voices in english, and followed my first yoga class in turkish, and then started a 40 day mindfulness meditation course. in the five minutes of “the pause” — of turning inwards, i looked inside my psyche and saw a dehydrated desert flower that desperately needed water. i think this is how i’d describe these summer days - it’s been so hot that everytime i go outside, i’d come home with the beginning of a migraine. is it literal or metaphysical, or the fact that everyone in this ancient city is depressed? i’m not sure. but i know that it’s been a while since i’ve watered my own garden.
last week i hosted a very old friend and her husband, ran around the city like a tourist, eating all the turkish foods in one day, living the timelessness of istanbul — and that was heartwarming and wonderful - and gave me lots of ideas about a different kind of relationship to the city: one where i’m not a tourist, nor a local, but can easily traverse the wide spectrum in between.
side note: i’m having more near encounters with animals, and coming closer and closer, it feels, to having a dog. and/or a cat. tbd on this.
currently reading: 10 minutes 38 seconds inn this strange world by elif shafak, told from the perspective of a murdered prostitute in istanbul just a few minutes after her death, and it’s absorbing and heavy and dark and beautiful.