"We want Mardin to reclaim its place in the world," said Selahattin Bilirer, a local conservationist, as he looked out from the yellow stone walls of a 15th-century Ottoman theological college. "We want it to make a contribution to global culture," he said.
The historic city of Mardin sits on a rocky outcrop in south-east Turkey high above the Mesopotamian plain, which stretches away to the Syrian border and beyond.
A mass of listening posts in military installations on the hilltop testifies to Mardin's modern strategic importance.
However, in the warren of stone streets which form the old city below, it is the past which comes alive. In hidden courtyards and narrow alleys, family houses and craftsmen's workshops rub shoulders with Selcuk mosques and Syriac Christian churches. In some places ugly concrete blocks have sprung up next to beautifully carved stone buildings; in others little has changed through the centuries.
But for the last two decades Mardin has been caught in the conflict between the Turkish state and the PKK Kurdish rebel movement - and out of bounds to tourists.
Now as a fragile peace takes root, there are plans to make the city a centre of cultural tourism and an engine of economic growth in Turkey's poorest region.
"This city is a mosaic of cultures and religions," said Seyhmus Dincel, an architect working on restoration projects. "Its history is reflected in its architectural style, and it still has an important impact on daily life."
The United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) and Istanbul Technical University are working with the local government and an alliance of local activists to restore the city to some of its former glory.
The first stage is to build a detailed picture of who lives in old Mardin, and how they want their city to develop.
Researchers have been going door-to-door to gather information from local residents. Ahmet Izzettin Kurtulus, who was born in Mardin 92 years ago, lives with his extended family in an old house with arched doorways and intricate stonework.
"You won't find a better place than this in Turkey," he told a sociologist armed with a questionnaire. "Why wouldn't people want to come here?"
Security has been a major concern for some time, and there have been serious tensions in the last few years between the Christian minority in the city and radical Islamists.
Most people, though, are tired of conflict, and hope Mardin can turn to a new page in its long history.
"Cultural tourism could generate further investment, and help people stay in Mardin and not migrate out," said Yesim Oruc of UNDP. "It would give the city an impetus for other development activities."
Over the centuries, Kurds and Turks, Arabs and Jews, Armenians and Suryanis have all put down roots in Mardin. Each new generation has adapted the city to its needs. One old monastery near the main bazaar has become a coffee house, with storerooms in the archways underneath.
There is no suggestion that restoration should sweep this kind of everyday life away. Mardin is not a museum, and it has no plans to become one.
