Under my feet, historic stones worn down by steps. Above my head, a tree in bud. Around me, lovely arches. Walls built, as Kahn described, of bricks that do not like a lintel and want to be an arch. I am in the courtyard of a han in Karaköy that only the hardware sellers use now. The proportions alone are enough for me to feel the power of the place down to my marrow. There is a sweet carelessness here, a waywardness. Walking through it, a person feels good for no reason. A good space can promise nothing greater. Yes, it is almost finished, spent. But it is still very beautiful. A fact of Türkiye: either derelict, burnt, ruined, and yet beautiful, or gleaming, brand new, soulless, ill-proportioned and ugly. #anistanbultale #betweentwomeetings