On a rooftop terrace in Istanbul, Inkognito sets his glass down on an Ottoman tile coaster, the saffron-scented breeze carrying the last warmth of the evening across the Bosphorus. A lantern nearby throws shifting shadows across the low table, and somewhere in his wallet, a vintage ferry ticket sits folded against a Polaroid he hasn't looked at in years.

Memories drifts from a speaker at the bar — Cem Uguzluoglu's track settling into the air with the quiet ease of something half-recalled. The rhythm asks nothing of the moment, only that it be felt.