I look through the tiny window -- also reflecting my wine-stained shirt and pants -- the light was creeping from behind our backs to take over the somber sky with its glowing rays.
Down below, lays the town of Bursa, which looks like a small sparkling jewel, reflecting light unto a thousand shattered dots. Right besides it, lays the complete darkness of the Marmara sea, carving random curves into the lit shores of the sleepy towns neighboring it, where human life had yet to wake and get ready to its daily routines.
Hunger struck me, so I call the attendant and ask for breakfast, in lousy broken french wording. A smile immediately radiated her face -- exposing the lines meticulously drawn by her tiresome years -- and she apologized since it wasn't time for breakfast yet but offers me a tea, which I accept.
I went back to my deep contemplations through the tiny window, as the plane was cutting its way through the staggered strata of clouds, leaving Istanbul behind us, just waking up at the arrival of dawn to harbor on its shorelines.
I had to go back to tolerating the annoying kid in the seat next to me too.
|Over the clouds|