The Starry Maiden

What Once was Home

Emerging from the memories, I stare out over the modern Istanbul; the city having changed so much since that day Yusuf approached me on that lonely rooftop. Glancing down at my sketchbook reveals that I have drawn the Hagia Sophia as intended, but rather than the Istanbul before me, the Istanbul of my memories decorates the page. I smile wistfully at the drawing; I remember the city well.

Flipping the pages of the sketch I look at the portrait of Yusuf that I had drawn in Greece. Gently sliding my fingers down the edge of the page again, smiling at the memories of my time here. I'm glad my mom had so much work in Istanbul.

Even after more than five hundred years the city has the same feeling to it. Much of it is the diversity of having been a crossroads of the world for so long, the colours of the markets, and the bustling energy. I let my feet carry me around the city's streets, careful to keep myself from bumping into anyone on the streets.

I admire the wares at market stalls and just let myself exist in the energy of the city, feeling more at home than I have for too long. Even if the feeling of home is bringing memories and pain... Just being here, reminds me of how it felt to be here then, and as much as it hurts to know it's all over... I would rather remember all the beauty and love, and all the pain together, than to never remember any of it.

Coming around the corner of some buildings I am greeted with the view of an open plaza with bistro tables and chairs next to Galata Tower. Making the decision on the spur of the moment, I buy a ticket to go up the tower. Although with Yusuf, I would have simply climbed the outside whenever we wanted to take in the view from the top. The day had begun to turn dismal so there were less people admiring the city from atop the tower than I imagine there would normally be. And so, I stay there for a while, thinking.

Every minute is another memory. His passion for the Brotherhood and for life. His smile... The way his eyes lit up when he thought of something humorous to say. The way his face would soften when our eyes would meet, even across a busy room. The way he became my stalwart defender, chiefly against my own criticisms. His thoughtful nature, considering everyone. That one time that they had to sneak into the palace to prevent harm to the prince Sulieman... Dressed as Italian minstrels. I grin at the memory of the look on his face wearing that ridiculous outfit.

It comes to my mind that I want to visit his grave... It has only been seven years, but I won't likely get such an opportunity for a while now...

Following the streets to where his grave is, I find only a building there instead. I wonder if they've moved all the graves from this site... Anxiety fills me as I wonder whether I will ever see his grave again.

"Are you okay, miss? You seem lost." A woman with a beautiful burgundy scarf on the street stops and asks me.

"Hmm? Oh... Yes...Thank you. I don't think I'm lost... But, there was once a cemetery here... Do you know where I can find out what happened to it?"

"Hmm.... Perhaps try with some of the local historical offices in the area... There is one just about five blocks north of here."

"Thank you, I'll try that." On that I walk in the direction she pointed me, looking it up on my phone on the way there.

Once I arrive, I talk with the people there about the building and what might've happened to the cemetery, claiming that a friend has asked me to hunt down the whereabouts of his grave. They brainstorm a while, they make a few calls, and once they give me some contact information I leave to continue my new hunt.

It takes most of the afternoon but down the line of contacts I come across someone who had been doing research on the Ottoman recapturing of districts of Constantinople from the re-emerging Byzantine forces and had singled out Yusuf as a key player in the power struggle of the city. I had been able to contact them, but by then it was too late, and my mom was expecting to meet up with me for supper. We agree to meet at a café near the site in the late morning tomorrow.