magic

He wasn’t always there when I walked past. Sometimes there was the water man, selling the bottles at 3 lira to the tourists, compared to one lira in the shops. Occasionally, it was the old woman selling single packs of tissues, but she was always quickly moved on. But the one I watched out for was the rabbit man, in his yellowish cream suit and hat, which matched the yellowish cream table and the long box of cards which sat upon it. It also matched the rabbit, a sandy coloured creature sat placidly on the man’s shoulder or in the crook of his arm, all day so it seemed.

I had never really considered having my fortune told by this duo, though I wasn’t averse to the practice over all. I’d had cards read, crystal balls read, numbers, astrological charts, and once I had squatted in a gutter in Chennai to have the size of my thumb analysed by a well-fed Indian. The reason that I hadn’t been attracted to the rabbit was firstly because it seemed silly, and secondly, it was a very touristic thing to do and I tried to avoid the tourist traps.

But I was with my friend and we thought it might be fun, so there you go. Up close the man was very well-groomed, rather dapper, but the rabbit was decidedly shabby with a dull coat and a bald patch near her tail. Her master seemed to love her though.

I paid my 10 lira and the man held the rabbit over the little table, whereupon she began to move her head up and down, her nose twitching. From time to time she’d stretch her neck towards a particular card poking out of its slot, but always pulled back until at last she seemed to find the card she wanted, and she tapped her nose upon it.

The man withdraw the card and without commenting held it out to me. On one side was a phrase written in Turkish, on the other side English. It said:

The battle will be swift and hard, but you will be triumphant.

Savaş hızlı ve zor olacak ama sen muzaffer olacaksın