O Istanbul, where art thou?
“Shisha?” My eyes rest on a group of young Turks, as they breath in, breath out and disappear in a dense cloud of smoke. “Shisha?”, the waiter asks again emphatically. And yes, why not?
“Shisha?” My eyes rest on a group of young Turks, as they breath in, breath out and disappear in a dense cloud of smoke. “Shisha?”, the waiter asks again emphatically. And yes, why not?