Walking through Istanbul's windy streets laden with ancient cobblestone overshadowed by mosques, the most magnificent, spectacular architectural phenomena in the city, I feel the urge to take photos. All that which surrounds me awakens within me the obligation to replicate this image for future admiration.
But really, the photograph cannot capture all the splendor, all the surrealism of a mysterious place. The camera cannot grasp the humbling brilliance of the dense orange sunset, the last stand of the sun's enlivening rays behind the silhouette of the mosques sitting on hilltops with distant pigeons gliding over the city pulsating with life. A picture cannot explain the sounds, the smells, the sensations. It can only attempt to remind the photographer. But he, in his focus on aesthetics, can fail to remember that which breathes life into the image.
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