Why does this quote move me?

Perhaps because it is melancholic.

Istanbul: Memories of a City, Orhan Pamuk

We begin to understand huzun as not the melancholy of a solitary person, but the black mood shared by millions of people together. What I am trying to explain is the huzun of an entire city, of Istanbul... To feel this huzun is to see the scenes, evoke the memories, in which the city itself becomes the very illustration, the very essence, of huzun. I am speaking of the evenings when the sun sets early, of the fathers under the street lamps returning home carrying plastic bags. Of the old Bosphorus ferries moored to deserted stations in the middle of winter, of the old booksellers who lurch from one financial crisis to the next and then wait shivering all day for a customer to appear; of the teahouses packed to the rafters with unemployed men; of the patient pimps striding up and down the city's greatest square on summer evenings in search of one last drunken tourist; of the tens of thousands of identical apartment-house entrances, their facades discoloured by dirt, rust, soot and dust; of the broken seesaws in empty parks; of ships' horns booming through the fog; of the city walls, ruins since the end of the Byzantine Empire.