by the Bosphorus

I tremble gently down the artery of the city, sensing its heartbeat every time my feet touch the ground. My eyes sweep the surroundings and surrender to every impression around me. Beauty is born here, learns to walk here, breathes here and eventually dies here. Suddenly it passes me. A graceful woman with long black curly hair, reaching the end of her lower back, is moving in my opposite direction. I turn around to watch her break my heart every time her feet touch the ground, leaving me with nothing but the diminishing scent of her hair and an echoing wonder to know her name.