Sailing to Byzantium

 
Photo © Francesca Zabarella
 

This is the enchanted City.

Porphyry. Gold. A silver pavement.

Contrasts of light and dark on the ancient stones. The perfect, eternal balance of opposites.

Two continents. Asian nights. The perpetual movement of a deep blue unquiet water. A jewel.
Sugar saturation. Inconstant wind. Thick eyebrows.
Music that talks about freedom. Young people staring at their past.
A bridge that hugs a horn of golden sea.
Melancholic eyes in Selim’s garden. Determined destinies.
Kittens and babies. Smiles upon a camera. Preciousness of life.
Guler’s iconography at the church of Pammakaristos. The prayer’s pervasive sound. Silent steps in the Kalenderhane.
The whole city in the eye at Yedikule. Colossal walls and orchards of soldiers. Fragments. Memory of Stoudion. A condemned floor.
Chora! The great, white turban of Theodorus. An angel wrapping the entire universe taking me with him.
Balat and Fener and the sunset light.
Galata in the shaking wind.
And there she is.
Aya Sofya.
Astonishment.
Sailing to Byzantium. Found my place. 

Photos © Francesca Zabarella