Istanbul. The city of cities.
My friends left me in their apartment in Üsküdar for a few days, alone with a talking cat and a piano. I‘d feed the cat in the morning and then play the piano ‚til noon, having no idea how that instrument works but enough time to make errors and more errors until uncontrollable sounds turn into melodies.
The balcony overlooks the Bosphorus. I have dinner watching ferries cross from Asia to Europe and back, hear seagulls screaming, unaware of continent borders. Back home, over there, in the West there are things waiting for me, unresolved stories, but I keep lingering over here, far away and out of reach from everything.
Istanbul is the loudest city I know, the most restless one, crowded, big and dirty and unbearable, but I love it more fiercely than any other. I‘ve thrown myself right into its very core, got lost in the maze of its streets, talked to people in a language I don‘t understand. To then come back to a place I call home for a couple of days, my ivory tower, with the talking cat and the piano and cast current desires and confusions into songs.
These are the first songs I ever made on that instrument which I still cannot play, right in that city I cannot shake. Istanbul, you‘ll have me back. Soon.
album. postcards #2: songs for the homesick
lizenz: creative commons