The lamas stand silently
looking down the hill
intently, as if danger approaches
on the fringes of the great city
I stand a few feet away in the falling light
Just before dark
I tamp the smoldering Balkan Sobranie in my Julius Vesz Zulu
The smell of latakia blends oddly with the spices of this exotic place
My first night in Istanbul to feel lonely.
The Hookah bar in town owned by two brothers is closed
We had spent the last two nights drinking Raki and very strong coffee
A few hundred feet away from the Blue Mosque
They do not speak english
I do not speak Turkish
It matters very little
The warmth of new friendship needs no language
.
WKM
Notes from Istanbul
Pipe Whisperer 