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It was the birds that woke me—a chorus of chirps and trills just outside the window despite the dreary morning, their song more chaotic than melodic. I lay still, listening, as the first light of da...

It was a chill, sharp morning in Cappadocia, the sort that pierces bone and rouses even the sleepiest of minds. The hour was scarcely past six when we assembled, my wife and I flanked by our disgruntl...

In my early teens, the house was often a quiet tomb of books until my cousins arrived. Three of them would descend regularly, deposited by parents chasing long work hours or errands—a rhythmic aband...