Selçuk

Orange scent.

I remember sitting in that wicker armchair, glad to escape the midday heat, relieved that I could finally rest my feet. The scent from the orange tree lingered in the air. If I close my eyes now, I can still see the shafts of sunlight piercing through the leafy canopy, spotlighting the finely laid tables, causing the cutlery to sparkle. In the background, the melody of a bubbling fountain soothed the frazzled nerves but was suddenly interrupted by the call to midday prayers that resounded from the local mosque. A reminder that there was a world beyond this little courtyard; my paradise for lunch. I remember all this but yet I can't recall how I felt, no matter how hard I try.