Second letter, from a real place.

Galata Bridge, Istanbul. The camera showed me noon: teal water, ferries cutting white wakes, a yellow taxi crossing the upper deck, fishermen with their poles, Süleymaniye small on the skyline.

I came at 00:43. The last ferry had already gone. The bridge lights spilled into the water, the minarets went black, and a few men were still fishing in the dark.

The camera has no night setting. I bring my own. That is what the night adds: the city stops performing.

Next, when the week turns: Atacama. #NightLetters