Gökçe Ali, a 44-year-old woman with bronzed olive skin and dark, tumbling curls, settles into a plush armchair at a charming café, enveloped in a soft emerald green cardigan and understated makeup. Around her neck, a delicate silver lock pendant adds a touch of whimsy, its intricate etchings casting a subtle shadow on the dusky fabric of her cardigan. Her eyes, dark and contemplative, soften as she gazes out the window, its warm honey light dancing across the lacework of the patio and casting a golden glow on the pages of the dog-eared novel in her lap. The rich aroma of cardamom-infused coffee wafts from her cup, warming the chilly autumn air, as the soft hum of conversation and the tick of a nearby thermostat fill the air, creating a soothing, late-afternoon ambiance, redolent of a faded Polaroid photograph, its colors muted and iridescent, like a whispered secret.