The first call to prayer of the day. The nearest mosque is one block away, and on nights of restless sleep, it wakes me up. It’s a reminder that slowly, slowly, the city is waking up too.
I leave the apartment to catch the service bus that will take me to work. The private high school where I teach English should be a twenty minute drive away. With Istanbul traffic, it can take up to an hour.
At the bus stop, I chat sleepily with the physics teacher. She tells me about her boyfriend who is in his compulsory two years of army service. Her stories are on the lighter side; how she hates his regulation haircut, how he couldn’t even wash a dish in his pre-army days. She misses him.