You start noticing the little boys after the aura of Hagia Sophia and the surrounded Ottoman architecture dims a little. They shiver on a stairwell or against a wall on a sidewalk, selling kleenex packets for a few cents, foregoing boyhood and lots of other things to help their desperate families survive. Torrents of people in this crowded city hurry past these 10 year olds. Only God notices them most of the time.
Last night it was a shivering elderly man selling tissue that got to me. Zdravka and I had come out of a tea and baklava shop when we saw him just up the sidewalk. He sat on the cold concrete, his eyes almost shut with the pain of life. I did the minimum and bought a packet. When we were at JFK the next day on a layover, I realized I hadn't touched the poor the way I could have. Not a good feeling.
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