You can never hold a straight line walking through Beyoğlu — start down İstiklal and somehow you end up on Cihangir's steep hill, standing in front of a cafe you didn't plan to find. This is a neighborhood of coincidence, not planning. Even asking "what should we do" feels too formal, since every side street has a sign pulling you toward something else. Turn off toward Galata, or dive into Asmalımescit's noise — either way, evening arrives before you've decided anything. You were never going to choose. Let the dice throw for you instead.