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On 8/9/2019 at 12:22 PM, sakhisangni said:

While we are waiting for the new series, another story from Engin

 

 

Garfish İsmail
By Engin Akyurek
[Translated by Engin Akyurek Universal Fans Club]

He felt really cold...

Ismail couldn’t get used to feeling the cold on his feet while walking. The cold of Ankara would cruelly infiltrate your body from your weakest point and, traveling inside of your body, would lay an ambush at places where it could intensify. Ismail’s feet would always feel cold. His tiny frail feet which are discordant with his garfish-like face would have difficulty in carrying his body. He was about to finish the high school. If his feet didn’t fail him, these roads he used to walk would be replaced with the corridors of a university which he would attend with a scholarship.

The cold air he breathed in got stuck in his throat. He was feeling the cold on his feet and his breath on his soles. The stiches on the soles of his shoes were well-matched with his garfish-like face. He wished he had thick sole boots; then, he wouldn’t mind Ankara’s cold or the road to school.

If he could climb that ridge fast enough, he would arrive at his one-story home that had a stove. He stumbled upon his father, junk hawker, at the most difficult part of the ridge.
“Are you going home, dad?”
“Yes, give me a hand with these.” 

Ismail helped his father push his 4-wheel push cart, glancing the cart with the hope of seeing a thick sole boot. If his father saw the hope in his eyes, he would get upset; therefore, he tried to hide it. Ismail, averting his gaze, kept his eyes on the peak of the ridge.
There were pots and pans and an old stove in the cart.
“How was your day, dad?”
“Same old same old, pots, pans, and tongs…”
“Nothing worth money then…”
“Never mind that, how is school?”
“Good, very good.”

His father always had a meaningful smile. What his son just told him made his smile hidden under his thick moustache warmer. He would dream the days that people would talk about how “junk-hawker” Nizam’s son became a doctor. He would love the thought of it, which made him smile to himself.

Father and son climbed the ridge and entered the street where their house was. Ismail had forgotten the cold a little bit while pushing the cart with his frail body.

Their garden looked like a little junk store: iron rods, rusty goods, old clothes wrinkled because of the cold…

Ismail looked at the chimney of their one-story house and started to speed up, hoping that his mother already came back from work and lit the stove.
“Ismail, give me a hand to carry this stove to the house.”

The chimney was not smoking, and Ismail was contracting his feet because of the cold.
“Are we going to use the stove?”
“Our stove is punctured, and therefore, not holding the heat.”

Ismail, not yielding the cold, brought the stove to their house by himself as if he were taking a revenge. He had drawn a comparison between their punctured stove and his boots. The things that need to make them warm were getting punctured from unexpected places.

Nizam had realized Ismail’s cold feet while telling his son about the technique of lighting a stove and said:
“Change your clothes with clean ones. Your mom will be here soon.”
“Will you light the stove, dad?”
“I will, I will.”

Ismail carefully hanged his ironed white shirt and jacket behind the door. The only cure for his cold feet were a warm stove and thick wool socks. He felt the heat coming from inside while washing his face and hands. How wonderful the new stove was! Not only it was heating the entire room but also other rooms as well. He could sit near the stove wearing his wool socks and study or could sleep hearing its sound.

His dad was tearing apart the old stove in the backyard as if he were fighting with the cold. He didn’t want to show himself while watching him. He might have needed help. He moved his feet closer to the stove, crouched and got smaller.
Ismail was listening to the crackling sound of the stove as if it was a lullaby. While his eyes surrendered to the heat, his red ears gave him a peaceful countenance.
“Ismail! Ismail!”
Just he was about to fall asleep: 
“Ismail, son, are you asleep?”
Ismail let his vocal cords fall asleep not to let his father want him to help:
“…”
“Ismail, son?”
“Dad…”
“I will pick up your mother from work and go to the market.”
“Ok, dad.”

Ismail, happy that his father didn’t want any help, secured his position and hugged the stove a little bit more. His feet just got warm and remembered their duty.
His father, while leaving the house, said:
“If you get hungry, there is some food in the fridge. We won’t be late.”

The sun was about to set, and the darkness was slowly painting the grey sky. The leftovers of the Tuesday Market were awaiting her mother’s tote cart. When to go to the market was very important. It should be around the evening hours when the darkness casted a shadow over the market’s closing time mess.”

The crackling stove had lost its momentum and its fire was about to die because the coals at the bottom did not burn. Ismail with his book in his arms, his pen on his belly, and his wool socks had become a part of the stove. His feet had started to move and the symptoms of an external awakening, which signaled the cold, were showing up. He knew this wiggling very well. If this wiggling started from his feet, it would take over his entire body and cover his garfish body and would not leave for hours.

When he opened his eyes half lidded, the cold had created a new way of seeing and, mixing with the cold breath he exhaled, had made inside of the house blurred. Straightening up from where he lied down, he looked at inside the stove. Bucketed stoves, when they were not lit well, could turn into a cruel thing that had been waiting for an opportunity to die down by collaborating with the cold. Even though Ismail wanted to draw a comparison with his holed boots, his mind was preoccupied with a scrupulous blazing stove. He checked his watch; his parents would be back soon but even though Ismail would wait, his feet wouldn’t. He looked around the room to find a useful thing to stir up the coals at the bottom of the stove to produce a flame. He tried to burn the wood pieces stacked up on top of the coals by tearing up a couple of pages of his notebook, but to no avail. He didn’t want to go outside and be too presumptuous with the cold. He looked for flammable things in the house. While looking at inside of a closet, he had seen an old jacket winking at him. It was a faded velvet jacket with torn lining, whom his father hadn’t worn for a long time. He had taken the velvet jacket, folded it into four-fold, and then thrown it into the stove. When the jacket caught fire, the coals had surrendered to the fire.
Ismail had continued his sleep and covered himself with the blazing stove like a quilt. The sound coming from the stove was like the footsteps of an army on a campaign.

The door was opened and Nizam and his wife entered the house. They have a hidden smile. The trip to the market was good and they were able to satisfy their weekly kitchen needs. Nizam, while putting what they bought into the fridge:
“Son, wake up! You won’t be able to sleep at night.”
Ismail didn’t want to wake up but the heat had made him hungry.
Her mother screamed:
“ Oh my god!”
“What happened?”
“Thief! We’ve been robbed.”
Ismail straightened up and tried to understand the word “thief”.
“A thief!”
His mother’s eyes were full of tears as her crying voice.
“A thief has stolen the velvet jacket.”
Nizam tried to understand his crying wife:
“What are you talking about? What thief? Which jacket?”
“The old jacket in the closet. It’s gone.”
“So? I haven’t been wearing it anyways.”
“I had hidden the money that I saved inside the torn lining of that jacket.”
Ismail had gotten smaller where he was.
“I was going to buy Ismail new boots. Surely, someone took it.”

Ismail, looking at his feet, crouched down. His feet were scorching, his soles were burning by the hell fire, the warmth of his toes were tremulously smoldering his ears. He could neither tell that he burned the jacket nor mention his torn boots. A thief had entered the house! A thief! 
After that day, Ismail’s feet have never felt cold.

Decoding of Garfish Ismail

Disclaimer : Solely personal view

There are only 3 characters in this story. Ismail, Nizam and light.

Ismail is a frail, overburdened young lad, who hangs on a thin line of hope and reality of cold.
Nizam, his father is more resilient to the given conditions of being a junk hawker and completes his duties as the man of the family.

The first few paragraphs deal with the cold season in Ankara and Ismail walking home after his school. He is pounded with several thoughts of reaching home for a supper, a second hand shoe from the day's junk collectibles or the possible bright days ahead (university, being a doctor etc)
Nizam circumvents curious questions from Ismail to put into comfort of a fixing a punctured stove and a possible hot supper.

With the heat from the stove, a tired and hungry Ismail quickly slouches on his books; only to be alerted by his father who was leaving for the market.
When the heat & light from the heater goes down, none of Ismail's efforts bring avail and finally he tears an old red jacket to fuel it further.

Satisfied on being successful he slips back into his sleep only to be disturbed his parents who have returned. His vigilant mother realizes the missing jacket and in disbelief of a break-in at their house and his father is more coping with the situation. Its Ismail who is sheepish to realize his mistake, an guilt of a "thief" that he now carried.

The story of Garfish Ismail unfolds at many levels. Superficially, it brings the poor living conditions of a junk seller at Ankara during winters or a young boy who lives in reverie of comfort while his parents work to make ends meet etc.

Gut feeling says its the toughest message encapsulated in a simple story. How?

A garfish is a commonly found fish species in stagnant fresh waters with long elongated bodies, slow moving and are attracted to light. They are commonly used as bait fish. Did that give you a clue?? ;-) Are there any anglers reading this story? 

A very casual Ismail ends his ordinary day in an extraordinary way. His laziness /arrogance to find things to stir up the coal resulted in burning his father's old velvet coat which had the hidden savings.

Hope, comfort and warmth are the metaphors of light used in the story. There should not be any short cuts or negligence in the pursuit of hope, else we will be the trapped into the false light(illusion) and the implication of falling to the trap can be traumatic and long lasting. Maybe Ismail might never want to ask for his shoes to be replaced?

What has compelled Engin to write this story? 

News from any region mentions of the youth being trapped into human trafficking, prostitution, drugs & mafia or liberation of a geopolitical region. A little more reading on some of the cover stories show us a pattern that most of the younger population have/had committed the crime in pursuit of hope and comfort of a better life. Did they really know the trap laid on them?

At a meta physical level, how often do we lie /cheat to ourselves to feel good in the name of ignorance, aversion and attachment. 

Thank you Engin for showing the right path, to move forward in the direction of hope, truth and light without being a bait like a garfish to an illusion!!

Closing this decoding with lines from the Brhadaranyaka Upanisad

( Source https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavamana_Mantra

oṃ asato mā sadgamaya,
tamaso mā jyotirgamaya,
mṛtyor mā'mṛtaṃ gamaya,
oṃ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ

This translates to:

Om, from falsehood lead me to truth,
From darkness lead me to the light,
From death lead me to immortality,
Om peace peace peace
(Peace in three states of life- physical mental spiritual)
Edited by Def Leppard

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Hey you - @Def Leppard - I've missed such posts of yours so very much that I literally had a "Om my God that's her" after  every word almost ,which means I need to read this again!:D

How are you canim? Haven't talk to you since the Bhutan days! Big hugs to you and Priya!:kiss::hugsmile1:

Going back to read and enjoy it.:773_purple_heart:

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EAUFC has been really kind these days so another story translated by them for all of you. @Def Leppard would be looking forward to another musing by you. I missed them as much as I missed Engin on screen. 

 

BECAUSE OF ME | 

By Engin Akyurek
[Translated by Engin Akyurek Universal Fans Club]

Plunged in sleep, I was wandering around among unknown faces at unknown places. Recently, my body squeezed between the bed sheet and the quilt has been often stopping by at this environment with incense aroma that was called “dream”. With “stopping by”, I meant remembering everything in the morning and designing dreams with technical competence. Praise be; my dreams have been running like a clockwork for the last two weeks. 

The sweetest part of my sleep was the moment I realized I was dreaming and doubtfully thought whether it was real. Maybe what I saw in my dream was the purest aspect of the world whom I thought real. 

I didn’t like the dreams swimming in shallow waters. A dream should spring from subconscious and it shouldn’t be enslaved by daily pictures or current issues. Sleep’s being pestered and molested by daily events was in a way related to unquiet mind and a mouth that talked all day when awake and that kept talking in sleep as well. These short-lived dreams kept a sleeper busy with a blurred photograph frame after his/her morning ablutions. 

My sleep and my dream, tangled with each other, have taken possession of my body as if they created each other. 

I was walking in a forest and calmly striding without knowing where I was going. I didn’t know whether it was either a rain forest or a tropical forest or the combination of visuals I stole from documentaries but I was logically trying to explore its location whom I didn’t know. I couldn’t figure out whether it was day or night since I couldn’t see the sky because of the magnificently tall trees. The rays of light penetrating through trees made me feel like it wasn’t night. It would have been nice to let myself in this forest if I didn’t know it was a dream. I guess the dreams allowed us to feel the adrenaline and the excitement which we couldn’t do in real life. 

So, was I going to wander around among the trees? There was neither a sound nor any sign of the recovery of the repressed feelings inside me.

The sound coming from green grasses matched the sound of my breathing. I was feeling my breath and trying to feel the fresh air filling my lungs as if I hadn’t been breathing for a long time. Something very fresh was traveling through my body and neither its taste nor its smell was resembled the oxygen that we needed to live. My nose could smell all the smells and my cells didn’t want to release the air that I breathed in. I sped up and stepped harder on green grasses to suppress the sound of my breath. My inside was dancing incessantly as if I was at a wedding. I wanted to keep dancing from where I left off when I woke up. My nose, my eyes, my lips had been exploring themselves once again. All the shades of green were before my eyes. The leaves sassily were touching each other, which I attributed to the slowly blowing wind. The wind got stronger and I began to see different shades of green through the branches. 

A whispering sound was hiding right behind me, suppressing the sound of my breath. First, I saw the shadow of the sound. If I just turned back, I could have seen the source of the sound. The shadow acted before me and moved in front of me to face me. And I saw the most beautiful fox that I had ever seen. Its hair, its ears, its color… It was like it was made of plush. I had chosen a nice fox from the photograph archive of my subconscious. We were staring each other. The fox sat on his butt and moved his mouth hidden under his long nose. 
- Hello
Oh my God, the fox talked! If I didn’t know that I was dreaming, I could lose my mind in my dream and could walk with a funnel (1) on my head in the morning. 
- Hello fox.
- Welcome, I’ve been waiting for you.
- Waiting for me?
- For a long time.
I wondered even in my dream; why would a talking fox wait for me?
- Fox, what do you expect from me?
- Do you have to say “fox” every time you say something?
- But I don’t know your name.
- That is not important. Names are valid where you come from.
- What is this place?
- A big forest, a real place where you can find everything.
- Everything I want?
- It’s enough if you just find yourself.
I knew that foxes were smart, and they fooled crows, but I didn’t know that they were grumpy and wise.
- One can never fool a crow. Whoever made it up, it is a big lie.
He could read my mind. Could I read what was going on in his mind?
- Can I ask you why you’ve been waiting for me?
- I will show you soon.
What did he mean when it said, “a big forest where I could find myself”? I didn’t need to ask anymore. He could catch everything going through my mind and not let go.

The fox whose name and sex I didn’t know was walking in front of me and I was following it.
- You should have understood by now from the tone of my voice that I am a male.
We were moving forward by walking through branches and stepping on the roots of the tall trees. It was as if we were in a labyrinth. I was preparing questions in my mind. I shouldn’t miss this chance. I would remember everything when I woke up in the morning. What I would find here could be very precious. 
- Wasn’t there anything you were looking for from where you came?
I don’t know if it is because of love, peace, or being loved, not only my mouth but my mind was also faltering. I was caught unprepared for the question that I needed to answer with my heart, not with my mind. The fox read my mind again.
- You can’t find what you’re thinking by searching for them. If they exist, they exist.
- Meaning?
- And you should be able to wait forever for someone to love you.
It was as if the fox had a philosophy teacher in him. 
- Brother fox, I am about to wake up, I can feel it. I beg you, let’s stop wandering around.
- Ok, ok, we’re there.
Suddenly, the earth that had giant tree roots cracked open and water started entering through the crack. The puddle which looked like a small pool was very clear. 

The fox reached his head forward and looked at his reflection on the water.
- Stoop over and look at yourself.
- Ok, I am looking.
I kneeled on my knees and I reached my head towards the water. Even though this was a dream, I went weak at my knees. If I didn’t support myself with my hands, I could have fallen into the water. Bedazzled, I was looking at my reflection. I was trying to lose the illusion on the water by shaking my head, opening my mouth, closing my eyes. My face had turned into a cat.
- How come I have this cat face?
My hands and feet looked like human’s. As if there was a mirror in the water and it was turning everything it touched into a cat. I saw my paws when I held my hand over the water or my back legs and my tail when I extended my feet over the water. 
- Why am I a cat now?
- Come with me.
I was trying to walk like a human but had started feeling like a cat. I was carefully looking around, trying to sense the smells coming from the deep with my nose. Weren’t there other animals in this big forest? Although I tried to feel or imagine, I couldn’t find a creature that matched the visuals that I had.

As I walked, the tall trees started shortening, the green leaves began to turn yellow, and the color of the sky turned lighter. We came to the top of a high hill. Everywhere was like a yellowed postcard. My curious cat eyes were looking at the two-story house at the bottom of the hill. 

The house where I spent my childhood was before me with all the details that my child self could remember. And its new warm state, which I could never remember, was reflected in my cat eyes. I could even see the rusty handle of its garden gate and remember the flowers in our garden and the sparrows perching on our windowsill. As I kept remembering, I felt that I had forgotten thousands of details that filled me in now. I guess we choose to forget to be able to let new colors enter our life. 

Reaching out with my front paws, I had started running to the garden that I longed for, to the house where I was born. The fox profoundly stayed at the top of the hill. I was running to my past, to the colors that made me. A rainbow was colorfully painting the roof and welcoming me home. 

As I approached the house, the missing pieces got clearer and a period which I had forgotten came to life. I could see my child-self looking outside the window. It was as if I was running to my childhood and my home. My cat body had gotten closer to the house and come eye to eye with my childhood. 
- Mom, my cat is here.
Our eyes were locked to each other. When I looked at him, I was seeing my childhood and when he looked at me, he was seeing his future. 
- It came back! My cat came back! I told you so!
My child voice was tuning me, completing the missing notes. I was waiting in the garden in my cat state. A big hand was reaching up the sky and placing patches like puzzle pieces to the missing places. The three-story house next to our house and all the houses along the unpaved road were coming to life. 

I was trying to catch the reaching hand with my cat curiosity, but I wasn’t successful at all. 

The door of the three-story grey house was opened, and a middle-aged man came out. The man whose face I couldn’t remember, holding a bag out:
- Come here, kitty, kitty… 
When I smelled the boiled chicken, I had realized that I was hungry. With the excitement and cuteness of being little, I had pawed towards the chicken that the man placed on the ground. When I raised my cat head, I saw a familiar look on man’s face. I knew that face; this was me at my fifties. 

My childhood, leaning his head against the window that was fogged by my breath, was trying to tell something. 
- Don’t eat that! Don’t you eat that! 
I was eating the boiled chicken by looking at my childhood. 

The man was going back to his house. As soon as I bit the last piece of the chicken, the man and his three-story house had been disappeared. Before my bites found their way to my stomach, the poison that was injected to the chicken had started traveling through my body. I was gasping for breath, my hair was burning, I had a pain in my stomach and there were tears in the eyes of my childhood. 

I was running with the pain that I felt as a cat. The fox was left behind. The forest was disappeared and everywhere started to look like the rest of the unpaved road. I didn’t know where to go. My paws had brought me to a crowded street. My childhood was disappeared behind the unpaved roads, in the deepness of the forest. It was trying to talk, suffering, crying for help by rubbing against the legs of the people whose faces I couldn’t see. The letters coming out of my mouth had no meaning. It was as if I was seeing myself on people’s faces. Rushing people, waiting men, angry faces, hopeless stares… It was as if I was trying to share my pain with everybody and wanted to tell something to the humankind whom I saw on my face. There was nobody to help or pet me. I don’t even want to mention the kicks I got. If could talk, there were a lot to tell. 

I opened my eyes at the bus stop near the Levent subway station. This wasn’t a dream wrapped in quilts or bed sheets. I guess I was fainted. A bunch of people were gathered around me. An old man who was emptying a bottle of water over me and an old lady who was holding a lemon cologne under my nose were inviting me to the reality. I kneeled down on my knees and tried to grasp for air and pull myself together. There were pukes on my arms and my cuffs. And my mouth tasted like the boiled chicken that I ate at lunch. According to the old lady, I had food poisoning, and thank God, I felt relieved after I threw up. 

Holding my hands out to the crowd, I tried to get up. When I just got up, we caught each other’s eye. The cat on the sidewalk right accross the street was looking at me. Just like me.

(1) A crazy person is usually depicted with funnel on his/her head in Turkish humor.

Edited by sakhisangni

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On 8/15/2019 at 1:03 AM, sakhisangni said:

EAUFC has been really kind these days so another story translated by them for all of you. @Def Leppard would be looking forward to another musing by you. I missed them as much as I missed Engin on screen. 

 

BECAUSE OF ME | 

By Engin Akyurek
[Translated by Engin Akyurek Universal Fans Club]

Plunged in sleep, I was wandering around among unknown faces at unknown places. Recently, my body squeezed between the bed sheet and the quilt has been often stopping by at this environment with incense aroma that was called “dream”. With “stopping by”, I meant remembering everything in the morning and designing dreams with technical competence. Praise be; my dreams have been running like a clockwork for the last two weeks. 

The sweetest part of my sleep was the moment I realized I was dreaming and doubtfully thought whether it was real. Maybe what I saw in my dream was the purest aspect of the world whom I thought real. 

I didn’t like the dreams swimming in shallow waters. A dream should spring from subconscious and it shouldn’t be enslaved by daily pictures or current issues. Sleep’s being pestered and molested by daily events was in a way related to unquiet mind and a mouth that talked all day when awake and that kept talking in sleep as well. These short-lived dreams kept a sleeper busy with a blurred photograph frame after his/her morning ablutions. 

My sleep and my dream, tangled with each other, have taken possession of my body as if they created each other. 

I was walking in a forest and calmly striding without knowing where I was going. I didn’t know whether it was either a rain forest or a tropical forest or the combination of visuals I stole from documentaries but I was logically trying to explore its location whom I didn’t know. I couldn’t figure out whether it was day or night since I couldn’t see the sky because of the magnificently tall trees. The rays of light penetrating through trees made me feel like it wasn’t night. It would have been nice to let myself in this forest if I didn’t know it was a dream. I guess the dreams allowed us to feel the adrenaline and the excitement which we couldn’t do in real life. 

So, was I going to wander around among the trees? There was neither a sound nor any sign of the recovery of the repressed feelings inside me.

The sound coming from green grasses matched the sound of my breathing. I was feeling my breath and trying to feel the fresh air filling my lungs as if I hadn’t been breathing for a long time. Something very fresh was traveling through my body and neither its taste nor its smell was resembled the oxygen that we needed to live. My nose could smell all the smells and my cells didn’t want to release the air that I breathed in. I sped up and stepped harder on green grasses to suppress the sound of my breath. My inside was dancing incessantly as if I was at a wedding. I wanted to keep dancing from where I left off when I woke up. My nose, my eyes, my lips had been exploring themselves once again. All the shades of green were before my eyes. The leaves sassily were touching each other, which I attributed to the slowly blowing wind. The wind got stronger and I began to see different shades of green through the branches. 

A whispering sound was hiding right behind me, suppressing the sound of my breath. First, I saw the shadow of the sound. If I just turned back, I could have seen the source of the sound. The shadow acted before me and moved in front of me to face me. And I saw the most beautiful fox that I had ever seen. Its hair, its ears, its color… It was like it was made of plush. I had chosen a nice fox from the photograph archive of my subconscious. We were staring each other. The fox sat on his butt and moved his mouth hidden under his long nose. 
- Hello
Oh my God, the fox talked! If I didn’t know that I was dreaming, I could lose my mind in my dream and could walk with a funnel (1) on my head in the morning. 
- Hello fox.
- Welcome, I’ve been waiting for you.
- Waiting for me?
- For a long time.
I wondered even in my dream; why would a talking fox wait for me?
- Fox, what do you expect from me?
- Do you have to say “fox” every time you say something?
- But I don’t know your name.
- That is not important. Names are valid where you come from.
- What is this place?
- A big forest, a real place where you can find everything.
- Everything I want?
- It’s enough if you just find yourself.
I knew that foxes were smart, and they fooled crows, but I didn’t know that they were grumpy and wise.
- One can never fool a crow. Whoever made it up, it is a big lie.
He could read my mind. Could I read what was going on in his mind?
- Can I ask you why you’ve been waiting for me?
- I will show you soon.
What did he mean when it said, “a big forest where I could find myself”? I didn’t need to ask anymore. He could catch everything going through my mind and not let go.

The fox whose name and sex I didn’t know was walking in front of me and I was following it.
- You should have understood by now from the tone of my voice that I am a male.
We were moving forward by walking through branches and stepping on the roots of the tall trees. It was as if we were in a labyrinth. I was preparing questions in my mind. I shouldn’t miss this chance. I would remember everything when I woke up in the morning. What I would find here could be very precious. 
- Wasn’t there anything you were looking for from where you came?
I don’t know if it is because of love, peace, or being loved, not only my mouth but my mind was also faltering. I was caught unprepared for the question that I needed to answer with my heart, not with my mind. The fox read my mind again.
- You can’t find what you’re thinking by searching for them. If they exist, they exist.
- Meaning?
- And you should be able to wait forever for someone to love you.
It was as if the fox had a philosophy teacher in him. 
- Brother fox, I am about to wake up, I can feel it. I beg you, let’s stop wandering around.
- Ok, ok, we’re there.
Suddenly, the earth that had giant tree roots cracked open and water started entering through the crack. The puddle which looked like a small pool was very clear. 

The fox reached his head forward and looked at his reflection on the water.
- Stoop over and look at yourself.
- Ok, I am looking.
I kneeled on my knees and I reached my head towards the water. Even though this was a dream, I went weak at my knees. If I didn’t support myself with my hands, I could have fallen into the water. Bedazzled, I was looking at my reflection. I was trying to lose the illusion on the water by shaking my head, opening my mouth, closing my eyes. My face had turned into a cat.
- How come I have this cat face?
My hands and feet looked like human’s. As if there was a mirror in the water and it was turning everything it touched into a cat. I saw my paws when I held my hand over the water or my back legs and my tail when I extended my feet over the water. 
- Why am I a cat now?
- Come with me.
I was trying to walk like a human but had started feeling like a cat. I was carefully looking around, trying to sense the smells coming from the deep with my nose. Weren’t there other animals in this big forest? Although I tried to feel or imagine, I couldn’t find a creature that matched the visuals that I had.

As I walked, the tall trees started shortening, the green leaves began to turn yellow, and the color of the sky turned lighter. We came to the top of a high hill. Everywhere was like a yellowed postcard. My curious cat eyes were looking at the two-story house at the bottom of the hill. 

The house where I spent my childhood was before me with all the details that my child self could remember. And its new warm state, which I could never remember, was reflected in my cat eyes. I could even see the rusty handle of its garden gate and remember the flowers in our garden and the sparrows perching on our windowsill. As I kept remembering, I felt that I had forgotten thousands of details that filled me in now. I guess we choose to forget to be able to let new colors enter our life. 

Reaching out with my front paws, I had started running to the garden that I longed for, to the house where I was born. The fox profoundly stayed at the top of the hill. I was running to my past, to the colors that made me. A rainbow was colorfully painting the roof and welcoming me home. 

As I approached the house, the missing pieces got clearer and a period which I had forgotten came to life. I could see my child-self looking outside the window. It was as if I was running to my childhood and my home. My cat body had gotten closer to the house and come eye to eye with my childhood. 
- Mom, my cat is here.
Our eyes were locked to each other. When I looked at him, I was seeing my childhood and when he looked at me, he was seeing his future. 
- It came back! My cat came back! I told you so!
My child voice was tuning me, completing the missing notes. I was waiting in the garden in my cat state. A big hand was reaching up the sky and placing patches like puzzle pieces to the missing places. The three-story house next to our house and all the houses along the unpaved road were coming to life. 

I was trying to catch the reaching hand with my cat curiosity, but I wasn’t successful at all. 

The door of the three-story grey house was opened, and a middle-aged man came out. The man whose face I couldn’t remember, holding a bag out:
- Come here, kitty, kitty… 
When I smelled the boiled chicken, I had realized that I was hungry. With the excitement and cuteness of being little, I had pawed towards the chicken that the man placed on the ground. When I raised my cat head, I saw a familiar look on man’s face. I knew that face; this was me at my fifties. 

My childhood, leaning his head against the window that was fogged by my breath, was trying to tell something. 
- Don’t eat that! Don’t you eat that! 
I was eating the boiled chicken by looking at my childhood. 

The man was going back to his house. As soon as I bit the last piece of the chicken, the man and his three-story house had been disappeared. Before my bites found their way to my stomach, the poison that was injected to the chicken had started traveling through my body. I was gasping for breath, my hair was burning, I had a pain in my stomach and there were tears in the eyes of my childhood. 

I was running with the pain that I felt as a cat. The fox was left behind. The forest was disappeared and everywhere started to look like the rest of the unpaved road. I didn’t know where to go. My paws had brought me to a crowded street. My childhood was disappeared behind the unpaved roads, in the deepness of the forest. It was trying to talk, suffering, crying for help by rubbing against the legs of the people whose faces I couldn’t see. The letters coming out of my mouth had no meaning. It was as if I was seeing myself on people’s faces. Rushing people, waiting men, angry faces, hopeless stares… It was as if I was trying to share my pain with everybody and wanted to tell something to the humankind whom I saw on my face. There was nobody to help or pet me. I don’t even want to mention the kicks I got. If could talk, there were a lot to tell. 

I opened my eyes at the bus stop near the Levent subway station. This wasn’t a dream wrapped in quilts or bed sheets. I guess I was fainted. A bunch of people were gathered around me. An old man who was emptying a bottle of water over me and an old lady who was holding a lemon cologne under my nose were inviting me to the reality. I kneeled down on my knees and tried to grasp for air and pull myself together. There were pukes on my arms and my cuffs. And my mouth tasted like the boiled chicken that I ate at lunch. According to the old lady, I had food poisoning, and thank God, I felt relieved after I threw up. 

Holding my hands out to the crowd, I tried to get up. When I just got up, we caught each other’s eye. The cat on the sidewalk right accross the street was looking at me. Just like me.

(1) A crazy person is usually depicted with funnel on his/her head in Turkish humor.

Engin I love you :dreamyeyesf:

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On 7/30/2019 at 2:18 PM, Angel. said:

 

Neslihan and Engin! Congrats, guys! :D 

:mellow: is ok.... :crying:  .. I am happy...:sad-191:yes, I am...  :hypnosmileyf:I am happy.. :yoga-smiley: I am happy....   Am I getting better?.... 

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2 hours ago, Ana C said:

:mellow: is ok.... :crying:  .. I am happy...:sad-191:yes, I am...  :hypnosmileyf:I am happy.. :yoga-smiley: I am happy....   Am I getting better?.... 

Neslihan is a great actress and they look great together. I think you should be very happy :D 

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9 hours ago, Ana C said:

:mellow: is ok.... :crying:  .. I am happy...:sad-191:yes, I am...  :hypnosmileyf:I am happy.. :yoga-smiley: I am happy....   Am I getting better?.... 

You will get better soon :yoga-smiley: Have faith in Doctor Engin :smileys-13931022091232:

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15 hours ago, Angel. said:

Neslihan is a great actress and they look great together. I think you should be very happy :D 

TgohbMS.jpg

8 hours ago, Jonsen said:

You will get better soon :yoga-smiley: Have faith in Doctor Engin :smileys-13931022091232:

eYaAsee.gif

Yes, I am getting better 

 

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