Altered perspectives

It’s Thursday morning, and I’m just getting off a call with my teammates in Indonesia. I jot down some final thoughts from the meeting, then glance at the clock as I hear the call to prayer rising over the city around me, a euphonious reminder that it’s midday. I close my laptop, grab my book, and head to my favorite kebab store around the corner. I sit in the sun as the owner brings me black tea in a tulip-shaped glass — “from the house,” she always says. I open my book. Mopeds and urbanites glide up and down the steep street around me, and when my kebab arrives at my table, I find myself attended by three or four friendly, but insistent, cats. After giving away half my meal to these new friends, I close my book, pay, and walk back to my apartment, ready to put in a few more hours of work. Later tonight, I’ll walk to Kadıköy to get my fill of baklava for the week. I’ll take a few moments to look out over the sunny Bosporus at the many minarets stretching up to the sun. I’ll go home, maybe do some yoga to account for my rigid daytime chair, then head to bed, ready to wake up at 6:30 the next morning, when my team standup will begin just as the morning call to prayer echoes and fades. <a href="https://ianyanusko.medium.com/altered-perspectives-a5a338686715">Read More</a>