Imagine Istanbul

I sat in the Cafés by the New Mosque sipping apple teas. Sometimes, I had lunch there. All the waiters had seen the three photographs of the little boy. They knew him. Many times they told me he had been there but I had just missed him. They told me his name was Yilmaz.

All of the waiters of the Cafés by the Mosques kept their eyes open for the little boy.

One waiter spoke Turkish and German. I spoke to him in German. Mehmet spoke excellent English. When I had finally found the little boy, Mehmet helped us to communicate by translating from English to Turkish to English. He was the invisible translator. He made it as if we spoke only one language.

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