Occupation and Revolution
August 2nd 2009 The dome arched above, punctuated with small bulbs of glass that allowed in a tepid light. Steam - or maybe it was my general blindness without glasses - enveloped the space in a thin haze. Drip. Drip. The echoes of condensation hitting the stone floor rang against the walls.
I could have been hanging out in a hamam in Istanbul. But I wasn’t.
Up a steep, cobbled road, I found a pretty rose g
... read more