'yes, it's a different type of mentality for me,'
I explain to the sweet shop lady, eager to use her accented English.
I'm watching the flock of taxis and minibuses diving around the street out of the shop window.
'Yes, yes, it's the Turkish mentality,' she gloats, with a sort of maternal pride. 'We think about today,' hand gesture, gloat turns into a carefree pout, 'and tomorrow we will think about tomorrow.'
A silver van is trying to make a right turn onto the street, directly across from my cute, well-lit shop. Isn't it a one way?
'I'm not used to it, especially after Germany,'
we exchange meaningful looks, as I figure I'm supposed to, discussing such a Northern, European-bound country,
'I am always asking my boss,' voice rises a decible or two, ' 'This? Did I do okay? What can I do better next time?' '
Self-imitation completed, I relax into an exaggerated Altug pose, hips forward and eyes softly looking towards my belly. 'It's good, you do fine. No stress.'
Shopkeeper smiles, hand on her hip; it's a knowing smile, a patriotic lean.
'We think about today,' she informs me happily. 'What comes tomorrow? We don't know. That's tomorrow.'
The gleaming cars parry their way down the steeply inclined road, busily bustling, rarely honking.
I watch the continuous stream of near-misses over her shoulder.
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