a top is a top is a magic topaç

Yesterday I was wandering and came upon this little street (everywhere is a little street with a mix of glorious old buildings in various states of decay but) which had almost no car traffic, with kids playing and laundry out. There were woodshops up and down the street, and I stopped to marvel at a man wading through wood shavings in a tiny shop with a loft. He was mostly a lather and welcomed me inside when he saw me staring. Picking out a wooden top out of a lidded lathed bowl of tops, he gave it a spin on the band saw. He said I could play with it and he didn't seem to expect it back.

His shop.


Benim topaç.