It was in Cihangir that i first learned Istanbul was not an anonymous multitude of walled-in lives - a jungle of apartments where no one knew who was dead or who was celebrating what - but an archipelago of neighbourhoods in which everyone knew each other.

For the traveler we see leaning on his neighbor is an honest and well-meaning man and full of melancholy, like those Chekhov characters so laden with virtues that they never know success in life.

Writing my own diary is the best form of remembrance, but only for my own use. I need these notes; it's like an impulse.

Now everyone is prouder and poorer

Heaven was the place where you kept alive the dreams of your memories.

What is the thing you want most from me? What can I do to make you love me?' Be yourself,' said Ipek.

Istanbul is a vast place. There are very conservative neighbourhoods, there are places that are upper class, Westernised, consuming Western culture.