There is nothing louder than silence, Quiet.

After being locked down in one of the most restrictive cities in the United States for most of the year and several tried but failed travel attempts, I finally arrived in Istanbul, Turkey. This city has become my refuge more than once the past 8 years. I still remember the first time I arrived to the great Constantinople, it felt like coming home from a century’s long journey. This city has a soul, if it had a spirit animal it would be a barn owl, old and wise, its vibrant colors are electrifying, mysterious and full of life, always moving, always going, most active at night. This pandemic was starting to take a toll on me, I need now more than ever for the city to calm the storm inside of me. I need my internal battery to be recharged, I need to feel the mundane of normal life again.

The next morning I decided to start my day with a long walk to nowhere. This time it was different, it was quiet, too quiet, where was everyone? Where was the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread? Where were the old men who just sit around people watching like they have been siting there for decades as the world changed around them? I continued to walk in search of life. A few random cafes are open, but no one is there, I can see one owner standing over a counter reading the paper drinking tea, he doesn’t even bother to look up as I walk by, he already knows, I am not buying. He is only there out of habit, not desire, he's slowly dying, and we both know it, as I nod my head, thinking to myself, he won't survive.

I continue to walk down the street like a twisted game of hide and seek, I walk along side of an ancient city wall. I could hear faint whispers coming from the stones, "We used to be here, might and great, we built these walls, we left our mark on history, we are gone but not forgotten, what about you? As I look around, I ironically see a vanity spot for Instagram selfies, #Instamodel, Hasttag, I was here, you weren't and that's why I am better than you, tag you are it. The street is vacant not a social media influencer to be found, the city is quiet.

Around the corner and down the street, up and down I go, lost in the void. I start to panic so I scream MARCO!!!! Right on que, the Ahdan starts to echo all around me, answering my call, Allahu akbar... allahu akbar... Allahu akbar ...allahu akbar..

ash-hadu anla ilaha illah Allah. Was this God's way of saying, Polo? I am with you always, I began to ponder as I kept walking, the city was quiet.

I keep walking, another closed cafe, but this time they left street art where the door used to be. A young woman's beautifully painted face, with daunting eyes staring into nothingness. I saw a white arrow pointing the way, I took it as sign, follow it to see where it may lead, maybe it had the answer to the question that I seek. It's not like I have any place to be, everything is close, everyone is gone, they all left me, they didn't even leave a note.

At the top of the hill was another grandiose building, a monument to the great men and women of the past, who built this building with nothing but pure will and hardworking hands. They had no modern appliances, luxuries or tolls, no apps, gadgets or Amazon things. They weren't constantly connect to everyone, all the time, living in a virtual dream. I looked up from my phone, what did I see? Everyone around me is gone, but they left their things.

I decided to head down towards the water, it's my astrological sign, Pieces. Just maybe that's where everyone has gone. I headed down the hill, I passed a sleeping dog and 2 cats one black, one white, still no humans to be found. No people walking, no children playing, no old ladies laughing, no taxi cabs honking. The silence began to feel more like a warning of bad things to come, the city was quiet.

There was no one waiting by the water, standing at the shore, with cheers and smiles, I made past the finish line. The fishermen were gone, no boats headed back to shore. Just me and the water slowly rolling back and forth. Wait what is that I see? Is that Galata Tower still standing tall for all to see? Reminding us that she's been here before hundreds of years, hundreds of times, she still stands and so can we. She is broadcasting hope, everyone may have left the city, but she will never leave.

I start back up another street, the writing is on the wall, street art of Little Red Riding Hood, a children's tale warning us of all the dangers ahead. We are not safe from the big bad wolf, not even Grandma could protect herself from such a beast, the thought of her being torn and eaten, devoured limb by limb, was too much for anyone as I began to run.

Running past the torn out building's that families once called home, running past the broken windows and broken doors, broken dreams, broken lives and those that live no more. I keep running until it hurts to breathe, 360 degrees of destruction all around me. gasping for air, blackness, hopelessness, every life on the planet destroyed, no one is coming, there is no prince, this isn't a fairytale, this the new dystopian reality.

I didn't stop running until I was safe behind my blue door. Survival of the fittest, the DNA of my ancestor pumping through my heart, when faced with the inevitable hardships of life, choose to be fearless to stand up and fight. The fragile cup of "Freedom and Democracy" that had been passed down, shattered forever, how quickly it feel from our hands, without a struggle or a battle, it didn't take years or months, only a moment. "Safer at home" they said, "Stay Home, Stay Alive", "Don't share air", If not for yourself for all human kind, "Slow the Spread." Until we all died hiding, afraid, isolated, 6 feet apart, our mouths covered, our voices silenced. All the world was quiet.