Turkey is one of those countries that has fascinated me from my childhood. It's home to many of our treasured fairy tales, and it exudes an air of mystery and adventure. Ancient tradition seems to whisper down Istanbul's streets, from it's shops and homes, from the foods, to breathe from it's people. In her escape from The Lost City, Amber embarks on a journey from Damascus across Turkey, finding temporary refuge on an old Syrian bus.
As Lazam had predicted, a pinkish hue rose over the distant horizon about an hour later, and Amber reveled in the awesome scene that grew before her eyes as she twisted her head to the far right, resting her cheek against the next chair up’s headrest. Gold sunbeams lit the underbelly of a huge cumulus cloud that hovered above far-off mountain peaks, its companions remaining violet in the dawn. As the sun became ever more revealed, the colors bled to vast pillars of glowing lavender, magenta, crimson, the spectacle suspended in the infinite, deep blue expanse. As the day wore on, the clouds spread, drifting apart in conflicting upper atmospheric turbulence. When the bus veered away from the scene, Amber twisted to gawk out of the rear window. She reached out her hand, wishing to touch the cold, wet substance, yearning to feel the sensation of being encompassed by such beauty, as though surrounded by living color that she could bind with her lungs, her blood, simply by breathing it.
Amber Grey-the lost city
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