Dear Istanbul,

I am breaking up with you. I thought I would do this formally, on paper, just to get my thoughts out as best as possible. The way I feel about you is complicated, and thus this parting of ways will impact me in more than the usual ways. I can’t predict exactly how, but rest assured that there will be countless nights where I won’t be able to find sleep, the memory of your warm September nights drawing me into a dangerous realm of nostalgia.

Your sound, a mad cacophony of music, voices, and horns, will reverberate through me, making everything else seem so quiet, so sterile, in comparison. Sometimes, I will inhale and your smell, of dirt and cigarettes, of spices and sea, will overpower me. And rest assured, your taste will forever poison me, as nothing will ever taste as good as baklava and tavuk döners.

Us in happier times

But, here’s the thing. Neither of us are so naive as to believe there were only good times between us. You and your darkness took my wallet. Were you aware that the red billfold was a gift from my mother? No? Well it was, and I hope you feel due shame. There were also those nights where you and your army of barking stray dogs interrupted my precious sleep up until dawn. You know how I need my eight hours. The final straw came when you grew so cold, your temperament so stormy. How was I supposed to keep living with you and your persistent moodiness? You tell me! AHHHHHHH!!!!

As you can see, I think it is best that you let me go. I do hope that we can meet again, perhaps as friends, in the future.

With love,

Mikayla