The Lure of Turkish Delight

“Where is the Turkish Delight we bought in Istanbul?”

“The lokum you mean? On the window sill.”











“Lokum, shmokum. Who cares what it’s called. Why don’t we open a box?”

“Go ahead; I’ll be with you in a moment. I need to go down into the cellar first.”

“Ok. But hurry.” Pomi smiled.







Downstairs I met my neighbor and we talked for a while.  About travelling, her recent trip to Prague and…

“Oh my goodness, Istanbul, I am sorry, I have to go, someone is waiting for me.” I apologized and hurried up the stairs.




“I am sorry, Pomi, I ran into our neighbour”.  I explained as I walked into the apartment, but my little crochet guy did not answer, he was fast asleep. It looked like he had enjoyed the lokum.