Lycian tombs cut into the cliffs in 400BC, Dalyan, Turkey.
About 10 years ago I was lying on a bed in an operating theatre and a surgeon leant over me and told me I was the master of my own appendix. Then he bowed to me, the kind of bow a student offers their sensei, and put me to sleep and cut out a cyst the size of a small peach that had been making a whole lotta noise on my right ovary.
A few weeks ago I went on a cruise to Greece and Turkey. I didn’t know I was going until about five days before I went and then I went and it was great, mostly, but sometimes weird. I took these photos in colour at a concert in some ancient ruins while an orchestra played. A guide told us there are only five harp players in Turkey which doesn’t seem like many harp players.
When I got home and I got my photos back I decided these looked better in black and white so I changed them to black and white. I guess that’s cheating but it doesn’t matter really. Because what the surgeon meant was that I could make whatever decision I wanted, that I was in control. And so I kept my appendix that day and I made these photos black and white and I left my husband and I lived in city after city and I don’t like pistachios and I’m ok with all of that.
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The picture of the queen at the top of this blog was drawn for me by Irana Douer.
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