In my dream, I was a seashell.
I got caught on the foot of a woman cooling herself in a sea bath on the Bosphorus.
She had beautiful eyes, and was looking at me. She wiped me with her woven sea dress and tucked me into the sash wrapped around her quince-shaped belly. I listened to an old woman talking about the Sultan’s journey to Europe. Sea salt, wet hair, whispers, small laughs, a bit of tobacco, angelic plums. I recorded the smells and the sounds in my mind.
I told myself that one day, as a bird, I would return to this time and watch these half-naked women from above.