My friend and I walked through the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. We weren’t bombarded with sellers until we left, when a man carrying a quite a big rolled up rug that we’d looked at, chased us all the way back to the coach, offering increasingly lower prices as he followed us. Not even an explanation that we couldn’t take it on the plane deterred him.
How do you feel about cameras on housing?
Tony Harrison Bereavement poem


