Breakfast in Istanbul. It was our first morning in the small apartment we had there. And on our way back from an early run, we’d stopped by the simit seller to pick up two items: a sesame-seed-covered simit, of course, and also an açme, the wonderful yeast-risen almost brioche-like ring (pictured, on the right. Actually pictured on the right is Jay, still in his running togs, deeply involved with Capote’s Answered Prayers.) Just bread and water? Hardly. Still to come, a bowl of Turkish yogurt with almonds and some fresh figs we’d picked up from a late-night fruit vendor near the Galata Tower the previous evening. Our reward for having endured a loud lovers’ fight on the floor above us the night before that went on until past 1am. Maybe they split because, mercifully, their shrieking performance never occurred again. Fortunately for us, our breakfasts did.