A diamond set in sapphires

I was a young, aspiring writer when I decided to leave everything behind and move to Istanbul more than two decades ago. I rented a tiny, dingy flat at the bottom of the Street of Cauldron Makers not far from Taksim Square, the heart of the modern city. That first night, I sat by the window under the anaemic light from a streetlamp, and wondered what this urban sprawl held for me. At midnight, I heard a loud voice from outside, full of anger and emotion. A transvestite was walking down the street, her miniskirt glittering in stark contrast to her raven hair.

She was limping furiously, holding in one hand a shoe with a broken heel. The other shoe she insisted on wearing. She was swearing at someone called Kareem, swearing and weeping, but soon her fury was directed at all men and then, suddenly, at the city of Istanbul itself.