Two reading keys of the city, two different colours.
Sometime i forget that i'm here, i sit down looking without searching more deeply, multinational stores and 500 hundred years old mosques can easily looked throughout without cracks, but superficially.
How can't we asking questions? and after you did that, starts difficulties.
It's hard to understand, and comprehend this city, resigned to the idea of a blindy accepting and stop.
See a woman and her chador in the street, and observing just behind she an high class shop, maybe european, maybe french, change its significance.
Veiled women in black, with eyes not resigned for all, nothing sad, non like the thinking the countries enslaved by the images-cult, them, under the heavy dark coat hide their woman's body, the same than me; them, with every head colored by veil, caring on their shoulders the weight of an Istanbul that is disappear, destroyed and consummated and changed and still change, old falling and wonderful Istanbul.
The old and the new, perfectly divided, incredibly detached, but approached in an only City of Cities.
New people, open to the new, embracing foreign people makes Istanbul new and really advanced in the spirit, and makes it all that She is now, that continue to be, and if it isn't for them, she couldn't exist enough.
Fall and rise, every building, every door, every face.
