It’s 11.30am in Diyarbakır’s railway station. Women in oversized sunglasses and hijabs are posing for pictures underneath retro clocks bearing the TCDD logo of Turkey’s state rail network. A young, lightly bearded man reclines on a bench, his heart-shaped balloon on a string wafting in the breeze taking the edge off today’s 38C scorch. Red bunting hangs from the platform ceiling. Shrill whistles cut through piped bağlama music as the Mesopotamia Express pulls up.
