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"I'm tired." Said my mother as she dropped down on the nearest bed, a little sprinkle of cotton particles drifting through the rays of sunlight. "How about some food?" Asked my dad. The buzz of their conversation a soft echo in the background of my current musing. Aromas of roasted chestnuts and charred chicken a strong contrast to the vividly red cherries and sun kissed peaches lining the vendor's tables just inches away from my window. "I'm going down to find us some lunch!" My father declares to a room full of silent ears. My ears perk up at the possibility of being down there admist the chattering language of a community I don't belong to. Quickly slipping into my shoes I hold the door before my dad closes it. Smiling gently down at me he asks a question that can only have one answer. " You're coming ?" I sigh internally, too bored with having to answer a question that requires no answer. Yet my lips rise into an involuntary smile as I mutter a soft confirmation. The thin soles of my shoes transmit each dent in the cobbled stones when they are suddenly met with the smooth pavement of the intersecting street. My father chatters on as his eyes scan the area for anything to eat. He spots a small store around the corner. So small only three people can fit in and none besides each other. I follow my dad only to realize that most of the store is lined with liquor. I'm ushered out, while my dad purchases some bread and cheese. I glance around drinking in the tight alleyways and the quick rush of people as they crowd the street, tourists and locals alike. I spot the red bus, a stepping stone to everything that is touristy. In between the many buildings rises a monument that catches my eye. It is not lavishly adorned with gold, like most Buddhist monuments. However, its beauty can be appreciated in its simplicity. My father catches me staring at it. Quick with his eyes, he tells me that we might as well go and have a look at it. Once inside, I stand marvelling at a roof adorned with art that is too far to fully understand. I glimpse a little opening in the wall, leaving my father's side as he admires the walls, I step into it. To my surprise I find what can be called stairs? They're carved into stone; each step way too thick and wide. The climb is excruciatingly painful, but when I finally make it to the top and grab a hold of the railings I cant help the slight tremble in my legs. Whether from exhaustion or wonder I cannot say. I only know that I would only get to see this once. When I emerge I find my dad still preoccupied with reading the little plaque on the wall. He notices me when I approach, recounting the history of what he just read. I stare at his face as his lips keep moving, but I cannot stop thinking about what I just saw, and what it means. The streets back towards our residence are cold and uneven. The silence, music to my thoughts. The warm bag of roasted chestnuts, and the smooth nutty feel of them on my tongue warm my starving soul. A young girl grabs my arm and gives me a pin with a blue-eyed pearl. I open my mouth to protest, but she smiles with ancient eyes before scurrying away. My dad calls for me, so I run a little before reaching his side. In Turkey, I find myself wondering, what it means to be alive in the time of the dead.