Sitting next to the wall of Topkapi Palace, my friend Murat served Turkish coffee after a delicious meal of Adana kebap. I observed the crumbling wood pile in front of me and remembered the single inhabit in that house.´
‘What happened to the man who used to live here?’ I asked Murat.
‘He is living inside the palace now.’
‘How?’
‘Well, this structure was falling apart. He found a hole in the palace wall that was big enough for him and moved there. I give him food. We all give him things. He is fine there. Doesn’t need much.’
‘What about the authority? The police? ‘
‘He is not normal, you see, but he is not hurting anyone. I had wanted to help him get money from the government but he didn’t want it. He saves the government lots of money. No one minds him staying in the hole.’
That was the story. I patted one of the cats sitting next to me—a baby, one and a half months old.
‘The other day I put seven cats in my car and drove them to the fish market.’ Said Murat. ‘They get run over by cars around here. But at the fish market they have food and I don’t have to worry about them.’
Murat puffed his cigarette heavily. They cannot smoke inside their businesses anymore. It’s against the law.
