I have never felt so close to religion as when in Turkey. The call to prayer wafts over the landscape on a strict schedule in tune with the sun; five times a day the melodic urging beckons the faithful to pray. There is a quiet adherence to centuries old tradition as markets and tea shops empty and people make their way to the local mosque to start their ablutions and prayer ritual.

The mosques are nothing short of stunning. Every single one of them. Built as testaments to faith they transform prayer into personal messages; an undeniable beauty accompanies the process and I was often, probably rudely, transfixed as I watched.

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