Plans in Kulp don't get made, they get waited for. The city's hurry can't cross the mountains to get in — walnut-tree shade, the scent of honey, and a heavy quiet along a branch of the Dicle meet you instead. If you've come this far from Diyarbakır, you're already carrying half the 'what should we do' question on your back. Don't rush the answer — brew your tea and let the dice handle the rest.