About an hour before boarding, en route to Ankara, a family
of four sit lost in thoughts of new beginnings. Alternately excited, nervous,
bored. Like all humans, each utterly unknowable and intimately familiar. Facing
a year abroad, in a land on the verge of reversion, they are moving both forward
and backward in time—mirror images, slightly askew. They are also twins in fact and twins in
purpose; the girls to expand and grow, the parents to write and shepherd,
protect and liberate. Lofty goals for a capital city, landlocked by
provincialism and petty
bureaucracies, not to mention a
leader with aims at crypto fascism. They will exist and operate both outside
and within these perimeters, as undercover tourists and conspicuous agents of human exceptionalism.
Sing gods, and sail them home.
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