07/12/12 Red Room

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I woke to an accordion passing on the street below. A new friend loaned me a red umbrella. Hours spent dodging the waterfalls that spilled off the mish mash of precariously strung tarps at the ‘Sali Pazar’ in Hasanpasa. Red was the string and the stall coverings; the corners and the lines. Valiantly it fought with the elements to hold this ephemeral world up…

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