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   I finally visited the Museum of Innocence. Titled Masumiyet Muzesi in Turkish, this is the visual compendium of the novel with same name. Orhan Pamuk is a nobel prized Turkish author who has received backlash in his home country for writing stories that sometimes cast a questionable light on Istanbul society. However, the museum he's installed in an old house in Beyoglu stands as testament to the charm and talent of his writing, where inside, guests quietly admire the collections with dove's smiles, as the visual satisfaction lends completion to their experience of the book.
   Inside the old house there are wooden boxes for every chapter of the book. The first floor holds a case enclosing the four thousand or so cigarette butts the narrator of the novel has saved to remember his beloved. On many of them, lipstick stains kiss the browned ends, all of them catalogued by year in which the beautiful Fusun would have taken them to her lips. It's a story of love; and obsession; and when the main character Kemal Bey describes his enduring sublimity the reader is given a chilled glass of empathy to enjoy with the many glasses of Raki (a popular Turkish spirit) Kemal Bey drinks to calm his nerves and sedate his love pangs.
   When one finishes the book in the last parts of the last chapter there is found a ticket to the museum printed into the book. Upon arriving at the museum, the reader may pull out their book and have their ticket stamped for free admission into the museum. This (as those can imagine) brings a great deal of joy to the reader who feels as if they've just been awarded a badge for paying loyalty to the book and its following.
 

 After exiting the museum, I was in a mood both contemplative and calm. It were as if I'd closed a chapter in my life upon exiting the Museum of Innocence, and feeling a bit curious and renewed I carried my mood up a cobblestone street, finding myself among antique shops. "Follow your feet" many wise people have said, and so, my feet led me into a small shop with all sorts of interesting things and a short man with gray hair, glasses which magnified the size of his eyes just enough for tinkering, rings on his fingers, a sweater to keep in the coziness of his shop, and a thin cigarette always resting between his lips to be replaced every seven minutes or so. I asked for a photo of him in his shop but he was not comfortable with this idea so you'll have to imagine or come to Istanbul and visit him.
   After I'd grown comfortable in his shop and began to ask questions he'd offered me a cup of coffee and idle conversation. I'd soon discover he's an Armenian (few of which are left in Istanbul he says) and that he also holds  the only certificate in Istanbul proving he can fix old phonographs and vinyl players -which is what he was tinkering with. I sat and talked, asked what this and that were in his shop, drew a sketch, and then finalized my stay with a purchase.
    I had discovered on the floor, a box of old keys, and always looking for unique curiosities from my travels I thought I ought purchase one...well maybe two. You will find in the below picture one key with german inscription. I had a German friend translate and discovered it was a hotel locker key (very simple); the other key is more unique and truly what I desired, as it was the only one of its kind in the box and I'd also find out from Tom that it was the only key like this he'd ever seen and probably was a house key of a Christian family. On the price, he said the nicer key would be 50 lira and the lesser 30 lira but since I had stayed for awhile to chat, he gave me the second key for free (score!).