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Rapport from my bed

Intricately ornately

Wall and ceiling painted in quaint

Murals turquoise blood red sky blue with brown on cream

Drapes and furniture delicately decorated in gold

Heavy curtains holding back January cold seeping through french windows

People have apartments smaller than this room

With its mahogany floors doors and chester drawers

I can hear a needy rumager go through the streets garbage bags left out by tired restaurateurs for collection

Plastic aluminium and carton mined as

busy cats talk to each other and passers by about the day that's gone

the preacher dog barks out his message to all who will listen

So late to sleep after a long day of travel

in a new bed

My fourth time here never the same room and only two more upstairs.

This time the minoret shall not be 30 meters from my head when at six calling to prayers

In order of appearance

Now woken Early

the glad night porter receives visitors and talks on the phone

The doors offer too much information

Invites to so much conversation


Women of earnest start loud interjection

Or maybe argumentation

Diligent street truckers take their turn at the rubbish

After the scavengers, cat, dog, and man

Have in order halved all bags weight

Perfectionist street cleaners polish for the next round of life's happenings

there is the call to prayer as

A wanting metal merchant in his own melody calls for wairs

Eager Efes and Bemontis beer delivery men move on the narrow street iron barrels on trolley rattling tenor empty up and booming bass full down to delivery

there are enthusiastic staff before shop opening playing music

melodic tekno

Coffee cwoffs through the window

As glad school students head their way

Powering workers kango hammer walls that vib like a shiatsu massage chair

Earnest staff plonk up the old wooden stairs

You are never alone in Istanbul

Phone plings a message and it's time to get up

Good morning


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