Love on the Galata Bridge

<p>When the wind blows over Istanbul, it returns my soul to me.</p> <p>The wind has blown. I feel alive. The chattering tea house women. The Dolma men. I could talk if my tongue wasn&rsquo;t made of leather. My tongue. My soul. It&rsquo;s living under the burden of love.</p> <p>The wind blows warmly into my heart. I live with the heavyweights of love. Those who have loved for a lifetime. I see their beautiful eyes. The way they shine when they see one another. Their eyes are like unemployed searchlights. They have found what they&rsquo;re looking for. From the cradle to the grave, they will love. A love, eternalised, as the greatest.</p> <p><a href="https://medium.com/scribe/love-on-the-galata-bridge-d92f8d0d5ca"><strong>Read More</strong></a></p>