Natascha slipped through the still medieval streets just as dawn was beginning to break and the moody Bosphorus blue was turning into a lighter dusky silver.  She ducked and and dived between alley and doorway arches, up the narrow cobbled streets until she saw an iron door slightly ajar. She nipped inside, thinking it was some kind of smiths workshop, since tools were propped up against the side of the wall and green wellington boots were stood by the mat.  As she walked through the entrance hall  floored with brick-red tiles, she found herself in a large kitchen with white paned windows overlooking a shared garden courtyard.  She edged forward and bent her knees so that she could let her eyes follow a young woman with milky smooth legs pad up her stone steps only wearing a cotton man`s shirt, barely covering her behind.  
“No, that`s just it! You don`t understand, you never have quite got what I mean...”  She walks through the entrance of a white framed glass door and passes her hall window peppered with organic herbs into another room that Natascha could only guess was her bedroom.  Behind the translucent kanji patterned curtain Natascha could make out faintly the silhouette of a man.
“It's tempting to watch isn`t it”?
Natascha let out a scream and swiftly turned around in surprise.
“Oh, sorry, I didn`t want to disturb your show” 
The man was slightly scrunched over his torso in tension, surprisingly so for his age, he couldn`t have been more than 45, Natascha thought momentarily.
“The door was left ajar”
“So you walk through every door left open”?
“No...its just I...” 
“ You never know, I could be the big bad wolf...did you think you were visiting grandma”? 
“No..I just...” She paused and changed realising his jest “Well actually, yes, I mean with all those iron tools and farm wellingtons, I was expecting to see ducks on the wall and Royal Doulton dollies”
“You won`t find any of those here I´m afraid. I prefer hand crafted items, not your made to measure factory models”
Natascha follows his eyes to a man made desk covered in more tools, half modeled clay and elaborately designed casts, romantically ornate.
“So I see”
He moved with his hands fidgeting in front of him towards a kettle in amongst silver-wear hanging randomly and resting on a earthy kitchen top by some fresh potted herbs.  
“Peppermint tea, it`s fresh, best with honey, perfect for a summer dawn, the Moroccans swear by it....”
“Have you got a kaftan to go with that”? Natascha replies sardonically. 
He turns and looks her up and down confidently, suddenly dissolving a few of veils of her defenses, so that she looks down and shifts to her other foot. After what seemed like an achingly long pause he turns back to the kettle letting a smile creep from the side of his mouth.
“...sometimes I use brown sugar, but I find dark, clear wild honey the best, just a touch, but enough to soften and sweeten”
At that Natascha bites on the side of her long thumb nail, suddenly feeling some flutter in stomach. 
Suddenly a loud smash makes her jump, momentarily she thinks she`s lost her balance again until she realises it was from outside herself.  Another one makes her dash towards the window.  Instinctively he opens his glass kitchen door and Natascha curiously runs down limestone grey steps without hesitation.  A woman with long black straight hair and a deep, purple scarf around her head is stood barefoot in the shared garden, loosely clothed in a tunic and with her arms folded across her chest.  She acknowledges Natascha silently and looks up towards where the sound is coming from.  Another older man slim and tanned and muscular from  heavy manual outdoor work joins them shaking his head smoothing his creased t-shirt.  "What time is it..." He grumbles to the silent women watching the action behind the curtain.  "Shhhh..." the purple scarfed woman replies her lips tightly closed and her dark eyes slightly worried.  Another smash, the sound shattering into a thousand pieces and echoing through the courtyard.  Must be porcelain Natascha sadly thinks to herself.  The dark haired woman lightly touches her shoulder silently sensing her sadness.
"Yeah, well damn you!...yes, I am eloquent more eloquent that you would ever be..."! A slight woman of about 30 with shoulder length dark blonde hair emerges from behind the door, running half way down the steps now dressed in jeans and the same man`s shirt she suddenly stops and looks up realising she`s being watched.
"Enjoy the show did you"? she yells at Natascha and the man and woman now stood either side of her like a shield.  She pauses listening to her own empty voice echoing back to her, curses in anger and frustration and continues to run out the courtyard. The long dark hair woman, lets her arms gently unfold  "She`ll be alright", she interrupts Natascha about to speak.  Natascha turns behind her to see him standing at the top of the stairs holding two cups of peppermint tea, his eyes rest into hers like the blue of dawn awakening gently into tangerine sunlight.