The soul that flies free on the wind

My extraordinary day began with a short ferry ride on the Bosphorus with colleagues and students, from Arnavutkoy to Eminonou to take photos for their project. After days of constant freezing rain it was glorious to wake to the bright, dry promise of a crisp and clear day. As the ferry hummed through the waters, the warmth of the sun and the caress of the breeze brought a gentle Quiet to my mind that has been so disturbed in recent days. I took a hundred photos in an hour, many showing the grandeur that is the Bosphorus - but this is the image that best summates Istanbul - physically, metaphorically, philosophically - on the day when a young lad was laid to rest and thousands upon thousands of Istanbul folk took to the streets and wept.

The loudest cry is the soul that flies free on the wind.

BBC News

Elizabeth continues to snooze in the box that was Besiktas' favourite place until bedtime when instead of curling up at my feet, she now snuggles in to my arms. There is no doubt in my mind that she understands and both gives and takes comfort as we share the loss of our sweet four legged friend.