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I Cried On a Turkish Morning…
This morning I felt the crisp Turkish air and heard the sounds of stray wooden sticks scraping the ground without direction. The view overlooking the bridge of calm waters and slow traffic. It felt like Sunday at home.
This morning I felt the crisp Turkish air and heard the sounds of stray wooden sticks scraping the ground without direction. The view overlooking the bridge of calm waters and slow traffic. It felt like Sunday at home.