*sigh*

Sister Flirtatious found out about Ekrem and this blog, today. I feel stupid for not locking it up sooner. And now I suppose there's no point.

She asked if Ekrem was Muslim. In truth, I've never asked. With his Greek father, it seemed doubtful. Maybe I never asked simply because I always knew the answer, deep down. Or maybe I never asked just because I've never cared. I feel like I could search this whole city, both sides of it, and never find another person like Ekrem. I love his knowledge of the way this city used to be, and his dreams for what it could be. I love his voice as it blends with the sound of wet cobblestones, describing those memories and dreams. I love how his eyes light up. I love how he stands close to me on the streetcar, and doesn't let anyone else near, but just takes gentle hold of my elbow when the tram jostles in the slightest way.

Now with my luck, she'll probably send him a link to this.