“I’VE been tramping around town for hours, breathing in the heat and the dust and finding that no one knows anything about the murder at the library. There was a time when I could walk forty miles in a day, but those days are a memory. I find a fountain and splash water over my face. I ease myself down on the wall and sit. The children playing in the street don’t see me; their mothers, hurrying to finish their errands before nightfall, ignore me. They don’t know who I was. There’s one final plac...e I need to go today. It isn’t far, but I almost miss the turn. I’m looking out for a statue on the corner, a nice bronze of a sea god riding in a chariot. It’s only when I’ve gone fifty paces past it that I realise I’ve gone too far. I retrace my steps – and almost overshoot again. The statue’s gone. Constantinople’s like that: a city of moving statues. They watch you from their plinths and pedestals, tucked in niches or on the tops of buildings. They become your companions, friends and guides.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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