On a summer night in Istanbul, after a discussion about the Turkish communist writer Nâzım Hikmet on a terrace facing the Golden Horn. 54 years after the construction of the Berlin Wall. Passing by on a carpenter workshop late at night watching the wroker repairing old carpets at 1 am in the morning; long never ending nights of work in neon light. Ottoman Buildings scurry over in artifical lights….
“You’re my bondage and my freedom,
my flesh burning like a naked summer night,
you’re my country.
Hazel eyes marbled green,
you’re awesome, beautiful, and brave,
you’re my desire always just out of reach.”
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