He came out of nowhere. K and I were standing against the railings of the Galata Bridge in Istanbul, watching the sea gulls dance over the murky waters of Bosporus when a balding man materialized next to us. He was wearing a blue wind cheater and bobbing up and down excitedly. “You hungry? You come inside my restaurant,” he said and pointed to one of the restaurants on the bridge. “I will make fifteen percent…
