Again, my eyes were far away. I had blacked out my eyes and I was ruling that I wasn't seen as much as I couldn't see, then a huge separator appeared before my eyes, I couldn't choose the color and I didn't know that it was manifested with the most purpose.
My inner voice is silent, and I am more insensitive than I have ever been.
It was as if the words were hidden around me, moving away from me.
Feel.
Live your disappointments.
Then imagine.
It's not enough to write it down.
It's not enough, forget your bed and sleep and go after your pen.
What came after me was a vicious wind, it wasn't enough that messed up my mind and my hair.
I was after a fresh breeze, but it would cool all the heat and lighten my chest.
I was as pessimistic as I was incomprehensible, after all, this existence accompanied every layer of absence and swallowed me up in one bite, the universe finally vomited me up again, just like it had many times before, but somehow I regained my self, even though I barely got up and walked.
Now I was refusing the pain of the universe and owning my last wordless times, although it was hard but…
I had no choice but to accept, since I was not accepted, I swallowed the stones I had thrown with regret. I understood again how separate and separate I was from the universe that I knew as a mosaic.
I invested more than I could in my brain and myself.
I was messed up again and again.
I had lost both my essence and my word, and while I was mourning the death of those who left, I was now mourning my own, and now I was mourning the tears that I had shed inside me.
What happened?
It wasn't the only thing that mattered, but how was I going to fit all this into an article that I should have kept short?
Since my destiny was too long and troubled.
I didn't have any expectations, but being ignored was worse than being without expectation, and I decided that I couldn't do what I did in today's conditions, or rather I had to, more precisely, in addition to force majeure.
But what good would my explanation do? Well, haven't I been standing like this for the last eight years?
Thousands of troubles and sentences I have poured into me.
I put my faculties to sleep and I can no longer invest in myself.
Maybe I felt too bad and guilty about something wrong with my deep bond with my mother.
If there is any connection left, it is between me and the world.
A bond is that I hang myself on a rope like words.
Maybe it's a web by which I was caught, though I was neither a spider nor a fly.
The child in me and the temperament in my soul and the vestibule in my heart: ah, the universe inside me is actually a huge black hole, not inside that I was lost inside, and I swallowed myself raw, in one bite:
Like yesterday.
More than enough though.
Like a day.
There was no tomorrow in my dictionary anymore.
Like an inn I stayed in.
It stretches before me like a road.
Was I an innkeeper?
Never.
Was I a passenger?
I don't know.
When I came, you hadn't opened your eyes yet. However, the city had already woken up and was in the rush of the day. Faces, who still couldn't get their sleep, which had been postponed for "five more minutes", were running to get somewhere.
I believed that every city had a soul. With its moving crowds, yours also had a heart. His shots were a little nervous, a little timid, but always hasty.
You obviously brought the sunshine with marbles in your pocket from the place where you turned your back to the sun and exiled yourself. It was brighter than him, your city at any time of the day. Always bright, always light!
Your pride in the vastness of the sea, your name was in the cries of seagulls. I saw the resistance in the bougainvillea, which clung to the crumbling walls of old mansions, reminding them of "living in spite of themselves".
I had walked dozens of streets leading to the sea with your name. I was breathing under the centuries-old plane trees.
The ringing drums reminded me to keep you in mind. My captivity was the fish on the hook. I had no complaints though.
I saw the two faces of the city in the laughter mixed with the tears. The two sides of existence and non-existence were carefully brought together. At that time, I believed that you were this beautiful just because you were in it.
I knew that a person would struggle to bury his loneliness among the crowds he did not know. Wasn't it the same pain that we met!
I had returned from the road I had taken with a handful of hopes.
The words I thought I knew were obsolete.
I wrote my greatest secret on the walls of the ancient city;
You called it a story.
