The ride begins like any ride up to a Yayla - ever further from the city, ever further from the river gushing at the base of tall trees, ever further, ever higher, creeping round the hairpin bends, towards the mountain tops coloured a misty blue.
Up, up, until you can go no further, until cool winds caress your face and, in a curious reversal of realms, according to a mysterious symmetry of annihilation, the world below has become an azure haze.
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