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    One of the Best Memoirs of a City

    Coming to think about it, I myself have no personal connection with this marvellous city whatsoever. Upon my first visit though, I felt a deep sense of longing for this place, the memories that have never been, the imagination that was yet to be created. Istanbul holds the mysterious air that leads any visitors to dream of a place in which any aspect of it related to some point of their lives - the unfamiliar streets, the old crooked houses, the rumbling tramway, the people and many other. It is perhaps, as Pamuk mentioned in this book, the fog that rises every evening to cover the city, the hills and the skyline with reminiscence of its past - our pasts - so beautiful, yet so melancholic. It has urged me to revisit the place, now for a longer period of time, with one of my best friends. If I was to express that deep sense of melancholic that everybody shares, the yearning of a place where one can truly belong, and the memories that have passed, yet impossible to recreate, I'd think of Istanbul. I'd think of this book.

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