There Are Rivers in the Sky

by Elif Shafak

but a story is a flute through which truth breathes.

Nowhere does time slow down more gently than inside a museum,

It is our way of admitting we were weak and flawed, and that we made mistakes, some inevitable, others foolish, but deep within we appreciated beauty and poetry, too. Each historical artifact, therefore, is a silent plea from ancestors to descendants, “Do not judge us too harshly.”

greatest challenge arose when I delved into the richness