The Secret Language of Istanbul’s Dream Weavers

Each time I linger at a rug in Istanbul, the dealer will tell me it’s from Konya, in the cen- ter of the country. More rugs appear quickly, icky floral motifs, the smell of mothballs. If I pause, it’s Konya, always Konya.And then I find out Konya is where the whirling dervishes are. And where the Sufi poet Rumi is buried.