Below follows a poem I wrote about Paris and a very quick sketch of the Parc Monceau. The poem is about how whenever we travel friends tell us oh you must see this and you must eat here. All of which I dutifully did until I realized that the best discoveries (in fact in a sense the only discoveries) are the ones we make on our own. As I am starting to plan new journeys to Turkey, Spain and North Africa, I am trying to keep this in mind. And, of course, I always welcome any of those things you tell me I shouldn’t miss, even if I never go. Though they will of course become part of my “baggage.”
A truly wonderful read with Istanbul in mind: Orhan Pamuk, The Museum of Innocence.
So funny. A friend just told me about this book and I am in search of it as we speak. Thanks for the additional encouragement to read this.