Can Facebook care?

Photo: https://flic.kr/p/e1LKVj

Photo: https://flic.kr/p/e1LKVj

On Saturday morning, I woke up to find a picture at the top of my Facebook homepage that reminded me of something from six years ago. My roommates and I had taken funny pictures around the old La-Z-Boy recliner in our kitchen. It was like our Christmas card family portrait.

I’m glad Facebook reminded me of that memory. I presumed that Facebook also posted the same photo to the homepages of my old roommates. In a sense, it kind of brought the four of us together again in some magical, existential way—us all remembering the fond memories of that evening and our life together that year.

If recalling that fond memory wasn’t enough, Facebook even told me that it cared about me.

“John, we care about you and the memories you share here,” Facebook wrote, above the picture.

But as nice as it was to re-live that memory, I don’t think Facebook pinned that photo to my homepage only to make me feel good.

Nor do I think

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Understanding why we fight

Photo: https://flic.kr/p/9AeqD2

Photo: https://flic.kr/p/9AeqD2

Waiting at the water department in Istanbul, my wife was number 30 in line.

After she was there for a while, the office closed for lunch.

And everybody waited longer.

Someone made a comment about the dysfunctions of bureaucracies in “Muslim countries,” and that sparked a small shouting match.

A government employee finally intervened and the security guard appeared.

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Chasing wishes on a cobblestone path

Photos by Ayşegül Bektaş Frame

Photos by Ayşegül Bektaş Frame

Every year on April 23, thousands of Turks board ferries and make their way to the largest island off the coast of Istanbul.

Many of them purchase a spool of colorful thread from vendors lining the cobblestone path to the top of a high peak, and they unravel the spool as they walk.

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Interestingly, in a country that is 98% Muslim, those making the pilgrimage each year are walking towards a Christian monastery, named after St. George, that sits at the top of the mountain. When they get there, they hang charms in the trees of the churchyard.

They also light candles. They wish. They hope. They pray.

Inside the church,

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