Ruined Temples, Ankles, Knees and Wheels

I tell of the Istanbul and Santorini start of a much needed holiday. The immortal name of Halvdan is noted, runic scratched into the stone of Hagia Sophia, while an eight thousand year-old woman lies with her child, perhaps one or our many common ancestors. Generous Greek Gods steer me past a deadly bomb in Turkyie, punish my hubris and foolishness with warning mishaps, and reward my finally taking heed of their hints with a healing Santorini sun set, whilst driving a waiter desperate in his struggle with tourist cameras quietly bonkers. Click the link below for the original text and to subscribe for my further essays. https://nomadprofessor.substack.com/p...