Love is something if you give it away for free, you will be at the mercy of yourself you’ll have to admit, she wafted out three thick circles of smoke staring at that old chandelier then a sip of black tea, putting down the narrow waist cup, she looked at that tired street of Istanbul, where in the opposite sidewalk a cat and a dog were peacefully feeding on the dead crow whose body had laid in front of them generously, passed a man with a cart selling the freshest herbs and red radishes possible she thought. Her fingers long and delicate came to touch the baklava, she’d been here she told me, at the mercy of her love in someone else’s hands, thinking it will return, but the love was not solely for him I realized years later. That sparking love was equally for that month of September, beautiful sun, good food, good sex, view of Bosporus, as well as for Kara Deniz. She smiled lightly as if she should have realized she’s always been a feather, not a bird and it’s alright she said, we do not get to chose our soul. Our soul chooses our body and a mind that finally outsmarts the soul and asks for more than it can do, then it’s up to us to realize and navigate whether we want the soul to change paths or just walk its cozy way. Is there a destination? She looked at my coffee cup, she feathery smiled, you’ll be fine. There is love, a decent love a decent home… She looked closer, and a lover… She wafted out another three thick circles of smoke staring at that tired street of Kadikoy.