I was on this ferry between the two banks of the Bosphorus one late October evening. It was chilly outside, the sun had just set and the sky had turned into a riot of colours. The buildings around were becoming silhouettes against the dusky sky. That’s when the ferry man came along with glasses of apple tea. Transparent rimless glasses of shapely glass, filled with a steamy hot red colour liquid. I took a sip. And there started my journey with tea. More than the drink, the idea of that evening with tea makes me go back to a cup of tea, many times.
My kind of a heaven of freedom I wake up to every morning. Tagore definitely would have had such pleasurable mornings.
#And Bolt wins again, third time in a row! Sad for Dipa.