By Wit, and not by Witchcraft

IAGO
How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone.


And so I soon shall. With any luck to watch young Obi-wan McGregor deliver that same speech in but a fortnight. Oh magical time, that makes all good traveling thoughts of mine inevitable. The hours do grow short for Istanbul. "Just a week mate" says Berat. Indeed. Just a week.