A Unified Life

Part 2

Although my returns have been disappointing, I am still going with hope, to find freedom or to look for it one more time.

How many times do I go to another city by getting on a plane as if I were running away from Istanbul? With the desire to break my endless pressures inside me... what kind of pressure was it, in fact, I don't know exactly that either. I have a life that many people envy; I come from a wealthy family, I have graduated from the department I want, or I think so, I have my own workplace, home, and everything I want, even though I am not over in my twenties. And you will say "What is this chain?" Actually, I don't know either, I just feel that way, so country by country, city by city I am in search of.

I'm going to London this time. I'm at the window again. I have a pen and a sketchbook which are glued to me in my hand. When we took off, a visible picture of Istanbul from the sky appeared in front of me. The image is very clear, however, my pen does not allow me to draw any sharp lines. When I tried to break the resistance of my pen to draw clear lines, my pen rebelled: "Brother, paper is your inner world, and I am your black pen that colors it. Allow, don't interfere our mess." It patiently resisted and won. I gave up. My heart voiced the picture, my pen drew it.

I opened my eyes when the sound waves of the landing announcement came to my ears. I looked at the drawing standing on my knees; Istanbul's buildings, which were multiplying like a spider's web, were intertwined with the ever-decreasing forest of Istanbul. In that turmoil, the magnificent blue of the sea was also wounded and crying. I wonder if this picture was Istanbul, or was it me? I am on the fence.

After I got out of passport control, I stopped when I got into the airport crowd. I looked at people. Nobody knew me. I breathed, and that was the smell of freedom. A stubborn smile appeared on my face despite the shackles. I threw my hand into my hair, which was doomed to be tied. My heart was filled with joy that I could experience my inner unlivings for a certain period of time while pulling out the black rubber buckle that gave me bondage to my hair. After shaking my hair right and left, I straightened it a little with my fingers. Now I could go so that I could freely see the sun not only in the courtyards, but also on the vast plains. The first step, the first move... even that was enough to make me happy.

I'm watching the surroundings as I take a taxi to see if my eyes can find a new picture, but in vain, the big cities, especially Istanbul, have a bit of a mess here as well. Although my hotel was far from where I was, I stopped the taxi and got off with a sudden decision. I walked slowly but peacefully through the streets and up the street. I started walking without looking at where the street led. The Clock Tower... is actually ninety-six meters and thirty inches high, it's just a clock facing four sides, but it has many meanings for the British. I'm not interested in these, but in the picture I see. One of the famous telephone booths with the famous clock of London is in the same frame... I sat on the sidewalk, I should have caught the angle more clearly. Yes, now the clock tower, which is close to a hundred meters, is smaller than the telephone booth, which is two meters... Shall I confess the truth? Neither the clock nor the telephone booth attracted my attention, but the boy who used that phone booth's happy gaze at his friend who was waiting outside. The rest are just details... I have captured the picture very clearly in my mind. I just need to find a place where I can put my drawing on paper, but I'm waiting for the boy to get out of the cabin. I was wondering if there was joy in that face, or in that tone of voice. I couldn't go, and I'd be waiting here on the sidewalk if he didn't finish his conversation and get out of the cabin. After he left, I looked around. Coffee was an indispensable accompaniment to painting for me, and I should have grabbed my cup as soon as possible and drawn the picture right in front of my eyes.

I'm at the narrow table on the sidewalk of one of the cafes on the street, where hundreds of people pass by per second, collecting all the sounds of traffic. Coffee and paper don't fit on the table at the same time, even if I wasn't here anyway, I'm watching that amazing happiness just now. This time, my pencil is bending over me, encolouring the hard lines and doodles together in harmony with my black pencil.

After a while, I get tired, I went to the hotel and lied on the bed. From the first lights until the hour when the moon lit up the sky; traveling, walking, drawing; that is, I moved endlessly. My body is tired, but fine, I'm happy.