Prologue

"Be grateful for whoever comes because each has been sent as a guide from beyond." (Jalal-al-Din Rumi)

The powerful and modulated voice of the müezzin began its morning call. Simultaneously, the first breaths of wind gently rippled the Marmara Sea, and the first light of morning greeted the people who were already swarming the busy streets of the city.

Sitting on his small terrace, the man enjoyed those first warm rays of sunshine, letting the long Egyptian cotton tunic flutter gracefully around his ankles.

With his eyes closed and his hands resting softly on his stomach, he listened to the insistent psalmody coming from the mosque not far away, trying to find some peace.

He hadn't slept much the night before. The plaintive chirping of a small bird had disturbed his dreams and his sleep.

In his vision, he hadn't been able to find the poor defenceless animal, the echo of its frightened warbles and its frantic slamming against something metallic had been superimposed on the sound of his hurried steps in that sinister and dark place, where he had continued to wander around in circles.

Disturbed and exhausted, he finally gave up finding comfort in his soft bed and got up tiredly, heading for the kitchen.

His tired eyes regained some of their sparkles as they caught sight of the old family heirloom towering brightly above the coffee table.

"A tea will help calm this inner restlessness of mine." The man said to himself as he gently lit the antique silver samāvar.

He opened the cupboard behind him and took out a tin can and three small glass jars. He placed the containers on the table and took a glass from the cabinet.

Soon the soft gurgling of boiling water told him it was time to add the tea leaves. The intense, slightly bitter aroma of Rize's tea wafted through the air; he carefully placed eight teaspoons of it in the teapot on top of the samāvar, pulled a small strainer out of the drawer, and with extreme care opened the jars.

You could smell the very flavour of life from those three little glass jars. Sharpness, spiciness, and sweetness filled his deep breath, immediately relieving his nighttime restlessness.

He dropped a couple of cardamom seeds on the palm of his hand, four cloves and a small cinnamon log, and put them inside the strainer on the bottom of the glass. He poured a finger of concentrated tea on it and then let the hot water wrap everything in its soft flow, mixing all those elements in a loving embrace.

Wanting to taste that harmonious nectar at its best, he stretched his hand towards the cookie rack on the sideboard and, with a childish smile, he took out three fragrant kurabiye and with that precious booty in his hands, he went towards the terrace.

Since the drink was still hot, he took the opportunity to rest his tired eyes for a moment, but when he was ready to take a bite of the first cookie, he was disturbed by a slight rustling of wings.

Surprised by the sudden noise, he opened his eyes and observed his strange companion. A tiny white-throated robin had gently rested on the edge of his glass, watching him all visibly.

"Merhaba, my little friend. What brings you all the way out here? You're not in your zone." Said Azad, observing his feathered friend. "Are you perhaps trying to enjoy my breakfast?"

The small animal reached out, not at all intimidated, to the hand holding the buttery treat.

"Ahahah. How can I not reward your courage, my little friend!" Saying this, he crumbled a corner of the cookie, offering it to his dining companion. The latter pecked a few crumbs and then stuck his little beak inside the glass.

"I didn't know you were a tea lover." Azad marvelled. The animal came back to look at him, rested on his hand, pecking it empty, and then resumed its flight in the direction of the bazaar.

Azad watched the little bird move away and thought back to his strange dream.

"Are you perhaps a sign? Are you telling me that I must go to work after all?"

That very day, he decided not to open his store to fix a few things around the house. But that strange dream, and that strange encounter, were foreshadowing something. He couldn't let it go like that.

Rising slowly, he inhaled the crisp morning air at the top of his lungs and looked in the direction where the bird had disappeared.

"A small bird from the east..." he reflected, looking down at the city below him.