Fear comes in many forms. A month ago, on the night of the bloody coup attempt here in Turkey, I together with millions in Istanbul and Ankara experienced gut-tightening fear as explosions shook our living rooms and gunfire crackled outside our windows. Downstairs my neighbours huddled in their bathroom, afraid for their safety and for the lives of loved ones.
It’s rush hour on Istanbul’s Bosphorus Bridge. Queues of cars jostle for position, the noise of horns fills the air, a young man selling Turkish flags weaves through the traffic carrying dozens of fluttering pieces of fabric; red and emblazoned with the country’s striking crescent and star.