Istanbul. In Pages last night, a cafe library bookstore with what seems a close, welcoming community. I was welcomed with much warmth and hospitality.

We ate Syrian fast food afterwards in a place I’d been before. Met a man whose survived his dingy sinking on the crossing to Greece. He was smiling, charismatic, gracious.

After the bread breaking and the beautiful music and the revolutionary claps there were whispers of terrible things.

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