Misi is the melancholic cat of the “Istanbul Stories” blog, roaming the backstreets and curling up in the quiet shadows of the city.

She doesn’t care much for dates and monuments. What Misi feels matters more than what she knows.

Unlike Alek the wise or Rubi the witty, Misi doesn’t tell stories with discipline or sarcasm.
She simply follows her feline instinct — lingering where she pleases, sharing what stirs her heart.

But that’s where her power lies.

While Alek observes from above and Rubi hides in corners to eavesdrop, Misi senses the human soul.

She listens to the emotions soaked into the stone walls, the longings left behind on park benches, the silence between footsteps.

When I envisioned this fable-like narrative of Istanbul, I chose a seagull, a cat, and a mouse — each offering a unique lens into the city.

Misi’s gift is empathy. A quiet poetry that only those close to the ground can hear.

Now, let’s listen to Misi herself. Let’s follow her gentle rhythm and slip into the city’s softer, lonelier corners.

Misi the Cat of Istanbul Stories

I am Misi. A cat of Istanbul.
Not just any cat — but one who has slept beneath the pillars of empires
and stretched under the warm sun of forgotten courtyards.

I do not chase history.
I sit with it.
I curl up beside its sorrow.

Where people see a mosque,
I see the longing in someone’s prayer.
Where they see a street,
I feel the echo of a barefoot child who once ran laughing through the rain.

I do not tell stories like Alek, with grand wings and distant wisdom.
Nor like Rubi, with cheeky jokes and palace secrets.

I speak of shadows.
Of a cracked window holding in the scent of old books.
Of an old woman feeding pigeons who never miss a day.

Istanbul speaks softly.
You must get close to hear her.

If you lie still enough,
if you breathe with her rhythm,
you’ll hear what I hear.

Because sometimes,
the heart of a city is best heard by a cat
watching quietly from the edge of a fountain.

Epilogue

If you’d like to experience Misi the Cat’s narrative style, you can read our article, The Obelisk of Theodosius in Sultanahmet Square. In the middle of this piece, Misi describes a monument brought from Egypt and erected in Constantinople by order of the Roman emperor.