Osman's Mannor
Standing in front of Osman Hamdi Bey’s manor, you are stricken by the simple beauty of the exterior. The vines that cover the two-story stone walls have created a beautiful shape, almost like an art piece. The door itself gives you the urge to pay respects before touching it. You can see it being presented in a museum within a couple of hundred years. The minute the bell rings, the door is flung open. You expect to see someone there, but it’s nothing but emptiness. Then you see some shuffling at the bottom of your feet to meet the one and only Eshref, Osman Hamdi Bey’s tortoise butler and best friend. With a bored manner, he shows you around the first floor. The first room is a common sitting area, almost like a ballroom but much smaller. There are different sitting areas scattered through the room. It looks like he regularly has visitors. Across the hallway, Osman Hamdi Bey opens heavy, burgundy, velvet drapery. When you step in, it is a mess–organized chaos if you will. There are books, gadgets, and semi-finished paintings all over the room. Yet Osman Hamdi Bey walks through it without stepping on any of it, like it is always in this current state and he could walk through the room blindfolded without disturbing a single paper.
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