In a city like Istanbul, where squares are few and often controlled, to gather is to claim space, to appear is to insist on recognition. The act of standing in a square transforms private individuals into a public — making them visible, political, and impossible to ignore. In this way, the square embodies the tension between control and freedom, absence and visibility.

Istanbul once fed itself—through truck gardens woven into the very fabric of the city. From Yedikule to Kuzguncuk, these plots are more than fields: they are neighbourhood commons, seasonal rhythms, and living archives of multicultural labour.

The arcades of Istanbul are more than historic architecture—they are ledgers of a plural city. Most were built by Greek, Armenian, and Jewish communities who once shaped the everyday life of Beyoğlu. These corridors once linked not only shops, but languages, beliefs, and generations.

To be seen is to resist. To gather is to remember. Being queer in Istanbul is a form of urban authorship.