Some things are not destined to reach their owner..
To remain stuck in one's soul like a slow-killing poison..
In order to save themselves,they must free them..
And here,we witness the tip of the pens from a story whose favorite place was "distances...
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When I meet his pupils,he turns his eyes away.. And when he looks at me,I record my vision elsewhere in the room.. I see life in him,he sees life in me.. He makes random drawings in his notebook, and I write incomprehensible phrases about and me and him.. He sings a song and I see our story in it.. As I always say,I see myself in him as my mirror that does not disappoint.. So I look at him for a ray of hope and he disappears! Is it possible for him to destroy me? Or maybe I was like everyone else in his life but his fear of me stopped him.. Yes,fear embraces me,embraces him too. Fear has always been a mediator between us.. As Mahmud Derviş wrote in his Poem:
He doesn’t see me when I sneak peek I don’t see him when he sneak peek. He is quiet,and so am I.
He is the seen and the seer I am the seen and the seer. I move my left leg. He moves his right leg. I’m humming a song He hums the melody of a similar song.
I think: is he the mirror in which I see myself?
Then I look into his eyes But I don’t see him…
Thinking: maybe he’s a murderer, maybe He’s a passerby who thinks I’m a murderer.
