the underground cistern

beneath the sultanahmet (old istanbul) is an underground water cistern dating back to byzantine times. astrid and i went for a walk through it today in the afternoon when it was very hot. it is cool down there, a warm breeze on one side and a cool moist current of air moving through from the other.

everything echoes -- from somewhere they play music with strings and high trumpets whose reverberations that sketch out the vastness of the cavern. you hear droplets falling and hitting the surface of the water, spreading ripples into the red and yellow light that reflects from where coloured lights shine up the sides of the stone columns supporting the ceiling. the ceiling is four-way brick arches, swept-up triangles that meet in a point. footsteps reverberate and unintelligible syllables of a hundred conversations. there are carp in the water and smaller fish, and glittering coins.

in the very furthest corner, where you can see your breath fog in the cool absolute humidity, there are two enormous medusa's heads carved out of green stone, half submerged in water. beyond the wet floors the cavern recedes into darkness. this far back the fish are pale and blind.