It’s book: From Pera to Beyoğlu by Orhan Türker.Its music: It's impossible to choose just one piece of music, even though some endless albums and concerts remind me of it, the first ones that come to my mind are rebetiko, İnsanlar'dan Kime Ne, Janet &amp; Jak Esim songs that make my heart tremble every time I listen to them since my childhood, and of course church bells.Its drink: 20-odd years ago on the sidewalks of Kartal Street, a dog killer, raki at Asmalı Cavit, beer at Urban, cocktails at Aheste.<img src="https://images.aposto.com/2022/5/1/1655723093478.jpeg" style="display: block; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px; border-style: none; position: relative; cursor: pointer; padding: 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;" width="550" ratio="0.67" fr-original-style="display: block; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px;" fr-original-class="fr-draggable">Aheste<hr fr-original-style="" style="height: 0px; overflow: visible; border-bottom: none; clear: both; user-select: none; break-after: page; box-sizing: border-box;">Its Taste: Acrid.The topic of conversation in front of the apartments: "Where do we go from here?"Its object was seen in the window when looking up: A bust of a nude female model with an unrelated object or plant.Its topic: Coexistence despite differences.The person you meet walking down the street: In the past, walking down Istiklal meant running into acquaintances and having an unplanned drink. Now there are so few people left who live in Pera or come here at night.<img src="https://images.aposto.com/2022/5/1/1655723646976.jpeg" style="display: block; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px; border-style: none; position: relative; cursor: pointer; padding: 0px 1px; box-sizing: border-box;" width="550" ratio="0.67" fr-original-style="display: block; vertical-align: top; margin: 5px auto; text-align: center; width: 100%; max-width: 550px;" fr-original-class="fr-draggable">Nowadays, walking on Istiklal<hr fr-original-style="" style="height: 0px; overflow: visible; border-bottom: none; clear: both; user-select: none; break-after: page; box-sizing: border-box;">Its smell: The smell in my imagination is the smell of elegant people wearing Ahmet Farukî perfumes and going to balls in the late 19th century; the smell in my memory is incense in churches; the smell I hear now is the smoke of imitation perfumes and electronic cigarettes.Sense: Melancholy.

Kartal Street ile ilgili hikayeler