a walk

We went for a walk. We stepped out the front door, down the three stairs and into the crowds of the Saturday market. The women trying on cheap dresses were as fierce as lions over a freshly killed zebra. They could not be pulled away from their prey, and we had to weave through them. Left, past the socks and right, passing more cheap dresses. Straight now through the fruits and vegetables and down to the sea side road. We took a left to follow the paved path. Normally we go straight here, but instead we decided to go right.

Down to the little grassy area with a few brown unoccupied picnic tables. It's January and too cold even in Antalya for a mid-day picnic. Our only company was a little gray cat searching for scraps of food.

We reached the cliffs and would have been stopped if we had not happened upon a path with concrete steps which led down, down to the water. We stopped at a landing that began to get steep. There near the edge was, as you will find anywhere there are human beings, was a pile of trash ruining the otherwise lovely scenery.
"If you saw 100 lira, would you go down there and get it?" I asked him, pointing to the trash pile.
"Yes."
"50 lira?"
"Yes."
"5 lira?"
"Yes."
Does this person have no dignity, or would that be my answer, too?

We continued down the staircase until we were right there sitting on the rock that the Mediterranean water continually lapped, pushed against, moved around. I looked up to see only cliffs and sky. Rock around me, sea at my back, sky as far as I could see.
"If you saw 100 lira in the water, would you swim out and get it?"
"Yes."

"If you were surrounded by pure life and pure beauty, would you still obsess over menial things?"