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Contents / Monastery in the bosom of a mountain

Sharing the fate of Trabzon, it looms out of the mist from the heights of Karadag like a castle. At the beginning of the 90s, the minute class was over we used to dash down to the shore from the hill where our college stood, taking the first street we found. On our way we passed houses surrounded by tulip and rose gardens more beautiful than any I have seen since. As we splashed in the waves, someone in the group would shout, "The dolphins are coming!" This was the word we'd been waiting for, for they passed quickly, dipping in and out of the water. Later, wherever I looked at the sea, I always watched for dolphins passing like that in schools. And when I saw people catch sight of a single one and squeal with pleasure, I would feel sad. How could I have told them how dolphins once passed like that before my eyes. And for years. Time's rapid change turns all of us into witnesses of such rare moments. On days when the north wind blew, the waves would toss ancient coins ashore around Ganita. Its churches, mosques and city walls, the sketches of galleys on the walls of the Hagia Sophia, the sashes around the women's waists and the corn bread on the table -they have not changed.

 
 
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