The ninth heaven of long-suffering

Galata Tower observes the three sides of Istanbul on the hills of the delta where the Golden Horn waters join the Bosphorus. The eyes of the old city, the older the city has seen and spent. Demolitions, fires, states, regiments, suicides and Hezarfen were hosted on her eyelids. While the sun is setting on three sides of the city whose name has changed three times, it is still proud, a little tired but standing today. While the arches, which it once stretched like a periscope, were built with steel cages, the length of the tower gets shorter even if her history gets longer. She swallows her suspended tongue and continues whispering from her masonry ribs, the legends she housed.