Woven and Worn: Istanbul

Driving over the bridge into Istanbul at 6.30 am, first impressions of the sprawl were naked and simplistic.  I assumed many of the denizens were still sleeping, as most of the workers in the airport had been.

 Looking deep into the weavings of the intricate web that I was just beginning to enter, I noticed that something seemed to be missing.

Halves were missing.  In this densely packed fringe, one half of a building would most definitely be deserted: missing walls, window panes, parts of the roof, while the other half would clearly be inhabited and in use.  Despite the threadbare parts of the vibrant, intricate rug of Istanbul, new parts were being woven, others repaired.