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My little nephew Elias is four years old. In the evening, just before going to bed, he sometimes gets very philosophical.
"Is it not the most beautiful thing that we are alive?"
That's what he said. And somehow this becomes very clear to me while looking at this nondescript bush.
Where to? I've spent a couple of days just walking through Istanbul.
Completely at random.
For hours.
In this huge city of 13 to 19 million inhabitants.
Now I am alone. Till has been gone for a full week.
But do I feel like a stranger and lonely? No.
I am walking through the city with a big question mark over my head and am constantly approached by people.
Short, sweet encounters. And each feels like a blessing.
Come here my child.
I met Aladdin on a rainy day in a no man's land.
He is a car dealer, but prefers to spend his time watching the doves fly.
I take a walk with Mousa, we drink tea and talk without a shared language.
He tries to write my name.
The only person I meet at this graveyard proudly shows me the oldest gravestones.
Beautiful afternoon sun and the melodies of the prayers.
In the beginning the boys tease and provoke me a little. But soon the atmosphere changes.
After having said goodbye they come back and keep saying: music video, music video.
And in this way give me the day's most beautiful present.
The people at the fire try to tell me through basic gestures how much they hate Erdogan's government.
The only thing I am able to understand: There is a lot of rage.
What do all these little encounters tell me? Maybe that we're all the same. We all wake up in the morning and hope that the day will be good.