Postcards...

Moving

Unique architecture

expensive stores

busy people shopping

unnoticed

tight security

dirty looks

Kenyon is a mall like nothing I have ever been to. The security here is almost against us coming in due to the probability of our lack of purchasing. They don't let the man in rags come in or the young barefoot girl with olive, smooth skin. But they let me in; Spanish, American, cleanly dresses, purse present in left hand, canon brand camera in right. The building itself, as you can see in the photo was built for the wealthy. It is littered by Marc Jacobs and Zac Posen stores, departments of silk and cashmere with an occasional cotton piece, but only to wear underneath a 100% wool peacoat with gold double-breasted buttons. This is the mall I am seeing, people aimlessly shopping, full bags, empty eyes ignoring what lies behind the Kenyon wall. As we wait for a bit as everyone finished the writing in their journals I glance into the Zac Posen store, I can't resist his silk, kelly green gown in the window. I see a woman walk in and look around, grab 3 items, bring them to the counter and without a thought purchases her pieces, has them wrapped in a velvety red tissue paper and black glazed box. Without a smile she takes her package and leaves. I wonder how many meals that purchase could have provided to the young boys watching me now on the other side of the wall?

heavy breeze pulling my hair

chill in the air, sun burning

clean fresh air

photos snapping

people staring and boat in the corner

cars crossing bridge to the right

This hill top view is something that I would expect only to find in Istanbul. A tree litter hill closing in on its twin to the left dotted by homes of the rich and more importantly the poor. One hill in this area is a the home of tin roofs, barefoot children and dirt roads that are so narrow a traveling bus could barely fit. The other hill is exposed to a world of wealth, apartments followed by country homes and private schools. Malls covering the majority of public space and far enough away to forget the cardboard homes just cross the street. This, as much as I stare at the beauty of this country is what consumes my thoughts. If Berlin is, "Poor but Sexy" then Istanbul is, "Beautiful but Sad."

Divinity

men watering their ear, faces and feet

people filling water bottles

prayer being sung around me

people lying on the grass smiling

hot sun above

"Anything that represented the divine was placed on gold to represent the things of highest value," our tour guide had explained. This is an idea that I wish I could bring back to the states. I am standing right below something that is considered the be grand, divine, holy even and the creators of this monument are so empowered by their faith that they express this with a bright gold painting on the ceiling of the "cleansing" tower for those to wash themselves during prayer time. I am truly moved by their faith, by their focus and ability to share their beliefs openly.

anticipation

sweating all over

excited

birds picking at food on the ground

clear sky

I came to Istanbul excited about a lot of things, but nothing excited me more then the prospect of seeing the Sofia church. The first Christian church, then Mosque then museum what an incredible transformation. Silenced shrubbery framed the outer wall of the church, and the cemented architecture only creates a more sophisticated atmosphere to the already elegant piece of art. The history of this building is what creates this emotion well up inside of me the sheer perfection and beauty that is shown through the curves and movements of the building could easily steal the emotion from history.

Tears

hot sun

people walking and whispering

shadows moving all around me

cameras going off

I cried at this moment. I had been crying but I really let myself cry at this point. I stood facing this memorial and I couldn't ear any of the sounds around me all I could focus on was the man being held by two guards. After walking through station Z i knew what had happened to that prisoner, I know how we died, I know what the nazi's did so that they didn't feel bad about what they were doing. I can see the unlit candles in the shape of the star of David, I can almost smell the flowers that are left at the foot of the statue highlighting the boney leg that hangs from the thin blanket. I can't stop crying.