Yellow trombone in Ankara

Had a little time to wander about Ankara this evening. It is only with such wanders that I get comfortable in a place. I'm getting there with Central Ankara.

I found myself, probably predictably, at a small park just up from the hotel where folks had gathered for the evening's protest. The atmosphere there was far from anger; it reminded me of a festival - a gathering of folk of all sorts with common purpose.

Lots of home made signs; lots of notes handwritten on scraps of paper and tied to strings dangling from a tree; lots of graffiti too - another way for voices to heard. I didn't understand most of them. One sign said 'democracy' and another, in English, proclaimed 'I think therefore I am'.

An old woman held a sign which I think said 'I am not a terrorist'. A response to a remark from the country's prime minister.

Where there are crowds like this it constitutes a market. I could have bought a horn to blow or a whistle. I could have bought a mask to hide my face. But I could also have accepted a free pastry and cup of coke from some young people. Or a cup of tea from an old couple outside their apartment block. Both commerce and kindness were there.

I chose this photo from the many I took. At the entrance to the park a couple of trombonist were accompanying some community singing. One of the trombones was yellow. It was wonderful. Everyone in the last song sang with gusto and with passion.

They all knew it. I guessed it was the national anthem. I didn't know the words, I didn't know the tune but my eyes burned as I felt the emotion of it all. A collective voice is a powerful thing.