nostalgic, a little sad, he says: "Those coffeehouses, principally the Tavukpazari, which once served the city's 'pleasure-seekers', are gone today." And he invites us to the Medrese of Çorlulu Ali Pasha, which to some small degree still preserves the coffee tradition. We accept with pleasure. The conversation deepens as we sip our coffee and enjoy our hookahs at Çorlulu. The past comes alive in the pipe's flame, and we perceive the difference between the writer's Divanyolu and today's avenue. How we have plundered our own history!

LIVING IN MULTI-DIMENSIONAL TIME
But not everything Ayvazoglu recounts is sad, of course. The Divanyolu's ancient and magnificent past becomes the centrepiece of the conversation. With candor, as if he experienced it all himself, Ayvazoglu describes the days, both Byzantine and Ottoman, when the avenue was decked out like a bride. "I would truly have loved to see it bustling," he says, describing the procession of the Ottoman imperial army setting out on a campaign and the official cavalcades that once passed down this thoroughfare.