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When the sun rose from behind Mount Asar, the
elderly woman had long since washed down the
large pebble mosaic and slate paved courtyard
of the old two-storey house with its wooden
veranda, and was drinking her morning coffee
on the balcony. Mustafa, a retired council worker,
was seated before the front door waiting for
the roofer to come and replace the broken tiles.
Iskender, a folk dancer and keen amateur photographer,
was walking with swift steps towards the Teachers
Club, hoping to meet the professional photographer
who was arriving in town that day. Metin Tanyel's
coffee house was as yet completely empty. A
white pigeon flew into the air from the garden
of the house with wooden shutters, and landed
on one of the chimneys of the house next door.
These chimneys, unique to this region and each
built from 52 red tiles, surmount the traditional
whitewashed Mugla houses, some with one, others
with two storeys. The neighbourhood of Saburhane
was ready to welcome the new day. Crossing the
market place created by covering over the river
that runs through the town,
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