Author: Simal Zagra

Somewhere in Almaty, Bukhara, or Istanbul. Candles burning, a circle of men beginning to sway. The air smells of incense. Someone is chanting Allah, Allah, Allah, and the repetition has been going on long enough that it no longer sounds like a word. Time has softened at the edges. A…

Simal Zagra (Şimal Zağra) There is a moment, just before arrival, when Sancaklar Mosque is entirely invisible. The sunflower fields thin out. The hum of construction trucks grows louder. Then, a sharp-edged minaret (and nothing more) breaks the horizon. Everything else sinks. Following the slope; downwards instead of upwards. The…