Meczup
It was obvious that this little boy was operating within the separate norms of a different world, like eccentric Düldane near the Fatih Mosque or Dobri, the 100 year-old living saint of Sofia. I was in another world reading, of all eccentric things, Gilles Deleuze in a discussion on nomadology and the non-state when suddenly I heard a piercingly enthusiastic and friendly small boy's voice: 'Chauffeur Bey! Does this bus go to Küçük Gümüşhane!!?? 'No, but if you go to Antepliler Mahallesi you can walk there in a few minutes' 'Chauffeur Bey! Does this bus pass by Wolf Village!!!???' 'Yes...' The small take-charge boy, with his smooth tan olive skin, a messy homemade haircut and akward shoes, boarded with his father, or another male relative, behind him. The man had, strangely, allowed this boy to handle the entire procedure, almost as if he did not speak Turkish or had a speaking impairment, or was simply in awe and deferential. The boy stepped ...