FALL IN LOVE

Fall in love

“I want to get his attention, only his attention. I want him to look
at me, hear me, think about me and always talk about me. I want
his last words before sleeping to be my name, and in the morning
his first words to be my name too. He would love me so much that
I would define myself in him as crazy and calm. I would be lost,
then found and lost again. I would know my deep and my shallow.
He would recognize me in a million people, distinguish me easily.
Only he would hold my hand. He would be only mine. I would give
him every song and my scent would stay on him. I would see him
falling and rising from my love. When he is exhausted, I would
crown his exhaustion with my love. He would burn with the fire of
love and I would bring him water, but not to extinguish the fire. I
would not want his fire to die.
Lara hadn’t told anybody why she left her master’s unfinished
and went to the U.S.A. She also told no one why she didn’t work
with Taner anymore. She was not able to carry on living in the
same city as the married guy whom she loved. Taner was married
to Eylül already, and Lara was married to a season of sorrow.

When Taner entered his room he saw a white envelope next to
his black leather notebook. There was no name on it. He immediately
tore it and skimmed through it.

When love first came, it wasn’t playing drums in the street of
heart. First, it seemed as a wounded gazelle or a small child who has
lost everything in an earthquake. It stood in the corner in such a naive
way. If nobody touched it, maybe sorrow would have left it there.
Love begins when you notice it. When there is something and that
something is right, the naive child whines. The more you feed that
child, the more he become a part of you. When love wants to leave,
you give everything not to let it go. It is you who is naive, not love. It
is love who stays, but you have already left the place.

 

 

 

 

 

You are without HOME or YOU are HOME.

 

 

“I know what it is like to live in a house, but you have no idea about living on the streets. That’s why the topic is so strange to you. Don’t tell me that you did camp or stayed in the mountains. Staying on the streets of a city is way harder than staying in nature. Why am I on the streets? Not because I have no home, but because I accept the streets as my home. This is my own choice: my home is my street. You may not believe it, but I am happy this way.”

He answered everyone’s questions as if reading their minds. Instead of telling his story, he was following a path of unanswered questions.

“You may think of us as alcoholics, uneducated and useless. This is quite wrong. There are some homeless who used to rank very highly in society, then they lost everything. Some do not even call themselves homeless. As for me, I can’t deny I have drunk a lot. I have also been involved in bodily injury and robbery cases. I was in prison for a while, for a short time did drugs. However I managed to free myself from the things that made me dependent.

“Hey, you! The one with the glasses sitting in the middle—yes, the one asking ‘Me?’ Do you know that it is not the same for you to open a pizza box as it is for me? You only open a box, while I open a treasure chest.

“Some of you call us ‘shadow people’. You are real and we are just your shadows. Really? You are very wrong. I’m homeless and I’m aware of that. I’m here with all my awareness. You have homes, but you remain homeless and you die without even realizing it. What about it? If you don’t know which street your doors open onto, you are the real shadow people. Homelessness without awareness is much more dangerous, believe it or not.

“We are known, accepted. We are who we are. We don’t have a roof above our heads, but what about your upside down roofs, relationships and worlds? Who can call them home? We are the residents of the streets, but you do not even belong to the streets because you have closed your doors on both sides. You are stuck between the inside and outside; you live in emptiness.

“I am homeless, right? And I am well aware of that, but you? Where is your home? I am the visible homeless, you are the invisible ones. That is the difference between us. You are the real homeless, not me. Now please, you, namely the real homeless people, come to the stage as I’m going home.”

He left the microphone and took a scroll from his belt. It was a yellow rag and the words were black. While he held it up to the audience, they tried to read what was written on it.

You are without HOME or YOU are HOME.

Treasure Island: The Season of the Heart

 

 

 

The universe would be the color of a person’s heart. When one sees the universe with their heart, it would be black, white or rainbow colored.

Cihan could see his actions reflected in the outer world. Sometimes they were good, and sometimes they were bad; sometimes they caused joy, other times sorrow. However he couldn’t see his actions in his soul’s mirror. When he complained about the storms inside him, it was he who was unaware of them. Was there really a storm?

The steel rope between his feelings and thoughts became a thin cotton one. His head and heart couldn’t connect and swim in the swallow water. A strong wind made his heart a mess. He had to wear lots of things to warm it, but they were not enough. He had a hole inside and the cold was coming through it. He wouldn’t be able to get warm as long as his heart was cold.

Cihan was worried. He cared and was interested in his heart, and as a result it became heavy. How could he perish under his own organ? How could the source of his life crush his head? He would have no escape other than to have a heart attack maybe. Would his heart riot against his body in this way?

Cihan was terrified of breaking hearts, but this caused him to break his own heart a hundred times. His body made excuses to do things its own way. His soul disobeyed its owner and lied about its own history.

There were some hearts that couldn’t reach themselves and hear their own voices. When the emptiness echoed, they thought they had their answers. When they thought they were in the depths of pleasure, they were pushed back to their gardens.

Gallery

The Japanese Tea Garden. 

Lara was passing through the Japanese Tea Garden. The color of the flowers gave her a new sense. Beauty was to be aware of your own culture in another culture’s garden. The purpose of her visit was to drink some green tea and smell the bergamot and taste the jasmine.

Passing through the small temples, she had to squint due to the flashes of the cameras. She watched the fish in the water from the small wooden bridges. The roads were going up; bridges in all cultures are about to going up. The differences build new gardens in our minds. We put other colors and smells to what we had already have. Gardens make us regard our cities from a higher place, adding soils and putting new ideas in our own homes .

Lara was watching a Japanese show in America. The taste of their tea was completely different than the tea she had been drinking for years. The difference was nice. It was worth going to the other side of the world and exploring herself. Not only her viewpoint but her whole being changed with the tea she was drinking.