The point of being on a hook is actually all that is going on and that thin line between succeeding and thinking is almost a scanner of my mind, but sometimes it does not give me pleasant feelings to witness that my intuition is crushed.
When I was a marshmallow flower, the only ornament of the universe and my only ornament is the awareness carried and carried by a smile that comes from me.
The miraculous existence of that incubator and air intake that I have been in since the day I was born.
It is obvious that I do not look like people, although I always put myself and all humanity in the same basket, especially after this pandemic, I know it was not easy to admit that I sometimes walk ahead and generally lag behind in life.
Urban legends are sometimes heard in my ears, after all, I'm a loyal resident of the city as long as I can remember myself, and sometimes I can't imagine it like the city I've been matched with: what?
The city of Istanbul, which corresponds to a limited small location on the map, and with a population of more than twenty million. It really hurts the mind: hosting so many people in such a limited and limited geography, just like the humanity I have hosted in my heart and the disappointments I have experienced and the amazement given by the fact that I have died into thousands of pieces, I almost feel tight in my body sometimes.
The burst of energy that occurs when I can't fit into the sky and the corridors of my soul where I gallop at full speed, and I, like Istanbul, can never bring my two sides together.
Sometimes I think that I am a defective mortal: neither woman, child, human nor object, even all the things that I have overcome thanks to the orders I often give to my brain with my fondness for the gray cells of my brain; I have been sentenced.
Sometimes I float with that miserable and single speck that corresponds to the ocean inside me, sometimes my soul hits the shore, but I am not a wave playing in the shallows, but mostly I am busy with drowning, and I see the bottom and suddenly come to the surface, storing enough breath and energy for years and rewinding the film.
Sometimes, my sub-memory where I pass subtitles and that point where I come to summer is actually the first time I go back and remember myself.
Any way you look at it, I remember my four-year-old self like it was yesterday and I'm amazed in my half-century life; How I wasted so much time and my life.
Believe is the best employee
never ending passion
right to leave freedom element
This is the feeling of literal goodness.
Believing is our best
People want to believe
If he lives, he believes in life
What does not come with death goes with death.
Humans have divine feelings.
Mankind worships what he knows as god
The divine point is the last point for the human
While the first of the divine people was the best
He is the beloved ancestor of all letters.
Of course, my prisoner life hasn't lost anything of its speed on the first day and while my solitude was the only benefit, as if being alone with myself wasn't enough, being able to judge myself without pity is the realities of life that I couldn't keep up with because of my friction with myself.
While I have fully accepted that for some reason I am not similar to my fellow men, who have both career and children, and now that I am well aware that I am not imitating even once, I constantly weigh myself on the scales of the universe, but my soul, but my mind, but my heart.
Physically, I have already shaken myself on the gallows many times, but the pressure of the external voice does not hurt me as much as it used to.
The universe captured by a virus.
I, on the other hand, know how incompatible I am in the eyes of those around me, both by my upbringing, my disciplined temperament, and my view of life that would be deemed conservative.
While there is not a single group I am included in, or rather, I do not like to categorize people and my slogan is to live without breaking and to move forward without hurting a single heart, I can build thousands of Roses out of my heartbreak.
My extreme embarrassment.
Did I note that after I became love-oriented, my star with myself did not reconcile either.
The only thing that is good for my foresight, which is connected to words, is my soul and emotions, which add the most energy and which I find myself writing in my bursts of energy, which has a trace in my existence, after all, after living and loving without a plan, the only place where I feel good with the peace of impromptu writing is of course my pen. Thousands of feelings, thousands of sentences, when the past, which I know as it took off and was reborn from the ashes of the past, which I know has already expired, and while my existence was hidden in the moment, while my presence was also instrumental in my happiness, the pen passed on to the minutes.
