travelight

Eniye on the Galata Bridge – Istanbul

She is suspended on a railing the exact same colour as the milky January river – the colour of winter air. Behind her, water taxis and ferries dart back and forth across the Golden Horn or out to the Bosphorus.

Above her on this double-decker bridge, traffic flows, people stream by and fishermen dangle bait on transparent lines, hoping to land a catch big enough to sell over the bridge at Karaköy, where fish are laid out on stall after stall – sharp of eye and glistening of silver scale.

If she wrinkles her nose she can smell the barbecues cooking for customers waiting on picnic tables on the strip of empty land beside the water’s edge.

If she moves her head, the owner of one of the restaurants that line the lower deck of the bridge will wave her in for a meal, or at least a glass of warming Turkish tea.

But still she sits, suspended on the rail, knowing that her rainbow skirt is brightening the gloom of a winter’s day.

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