This is my first and foremost close encounter with obsession, and this question broad to my God. Yes, I admit I’m obsessed. Not with a man, or a kind of food, but with a city: Istanbul. I don’t know how or why it just happened. Did I live there? Yes. Is it long enough to make me fall madly, deeply, beyond any rational in love with this city? No. But I did. No matter where I go, my heart is there. Every place, building, corner in any other country, that draws a deep smile on my face, when I delve deep, it is only for the mere fact that it reminded me of a place in Istanbul. I started loving seagulls but just recently, because I used to see them every morning squeaking out of my window, as I lived near the Iskele; the port. I love these pale, washed out, wooden houses wherever I see them, but now I love them even more because they remind me of some houses in Kanilada, a beautiful Island in Istanbul, which also is the center for Armenians living there. I even pass by certain places or areas, wherever I travel, just because they revoke my memories of Istanbul.
I wish they can give the nationality of a country based on love. I have no interest in politics or what is going on at the moment of conflicts or disputes with the Turkish government. For me they are just politicians, tools, puppets, they come and go. I just feel immense, and deep, unprecedented attachment to this land. I feel this way and I’m so proud that I know Istanbul like the palm of my hands. I know where to go if I have money, and where to go if I have no money. I know where to go when I’m happy, and where to walk when I’m sad. I know which bar has the best romantic ambiance, and which bar has the cheapest beer. I know what locals don’t know. And maybe some will never understand why I fell in love with their country. As much I sometimes didn’t understand how some people fell in love with my city: Cairo. But it happened.
In my neurotic attempt to always analyze things—I’m a Gemini, and it comes with the astrological package — I wanted to seek an answer from a therapist, or a healer, somebody who can take me back to my past life —I believe in this—and tell me something. Maybe I was living in Istanbul in another life, so that will explain, why I always want to go back.
Somebody would ask then why don’t you just move there? And I have a list of practical answers and personal reasons that I can say, but it doesn’t calm down my longing or give me any solace. All I wish for is that someday, I will go back and live there, without the fear of how can I SUPPORT MY SELF, or what will I do when my money runs out.