Tuhaf

Bugün anladım.
Değişim aniden geliyor, yavaş yavaş sarıyor. Kalakalıyorsun.
Öyle büyüdüm ki ben.
Yazamamanın verdiği rahatsızlığı yeni hissetmeye başladım.Kimseler tanımasın bilmesin görmesin istiyorum.Faz değiştirdiğim bu dönemde, okul hayatımın en garip günleri geçiyor önümden.Bir çarşambalar var asla unutulmayacak.

Bu sabah tedirgin uyandım.Mutlu soluk aldım.Üzgün devam ettim.Hırçın yoruldum.Sustum uyuyorum.

Ajandalar alıyorum kendime defalarca, ama en yakışanını hiç bulamadım.Bakalım zaman ne gösterecek.Neler olacak.

Korkuyorum.
Ama mutluyum.

Tesadüf bir veda.

 "Galiba bu sana yazdığım son mesaj olacak. Bu yüzden upuzun yazmak isterdim ama ne fark edecek ki... Sen yine ya kaçmakla ya beni kırmak istemeyip bana cevap vermek arasında gidip geleceksin. Aşk mı?... Onu yırtıp atamazsın sen. Çünkü ben tek taraflı aşkı kalbimde tutamazdım. Hala ve hep beni sevdiğini adım gibi biliyorum. O kadar sevdin ki beni, ben çıkıp gidince başkasının seni sevmesine izin verdin. Belki bir boşluğu doldurdu, ya da bundan yararlandı bilemem. Aşk eskidendi demeni bile olsa bunu gözlerimin içine bakarak söylemeni isterdim... Seni görememek çok zor biliyor musun... Ben hayalimdekini sevmeye devam ederim. Şiirler mi, onlar olsa ne olur olmasa ne... Senin gibi bir şiir buldum ya şu hayatta başka şey istemem. Bir ömür bittiği zaman elbet cennete ulaşırım. Ve cennette de seni sevmeye devam ederim. Baktım yanımda yoksun, hayal ederim... Hayalin bile güzel... "

Albert Camus
Defterler 1.

Son bir haftadır..Kızımın adını düşünüyordum..
Hayal,ada,eylül,damla,rüyamibuse..
Bilmiyorum belki de aklıma sonradan gelir..

Sıkıldım yine ben.

hayatta en çok sevdiğim, aşık olduğum, rüyam, düşüm, hayalim, gıcığım, vuuuuuuu deyişlim, yanımda pati pati yürüyüşlüm, gözleri muhteşemim, ahirette sonsuz eşim, ......................... seni çok sevdim, seveceğim...

Bazı cümleler adını kazıtır hayatın en umulmadık anına ....
Gizlice..

Tesadüf mü,devam ?

My passion for her had become difficult to bear. Her peerless beauty would not completely account for what I was feeling; this was not a fleshly attraction, but a blend of awe and adoration. It was as if every single cell of my body was trembling for her, and all my memories somehow had her in them. I wanted to kneel down in front of her, kiss her hands and beg for mercy. Yes, under the light flowing down from her, I would beg for mercy, but, mercy for what?

As this passion grew more and more each day, I started looking for relief. My quest was not to find a way to make her mine. Because, she was too precious for me. All I was trying to do was to understand why I was feeling that way, and if possible, to alleviate my intense emotions.

Common-sense remedies like spending time in the open air, or developing hobbies such as music did not work out for me; they were even counterproductive, and reminded me more of her. Then, I started reading on mysticism which finally led me to some answers. A considerable number of books would indicate that hypnosis would unlock the mysteries of the predicaments such as the one I was experiencing. Undergoing hypnosis was said to recover repressed memories, or reveal details hidden in the subconscious. I was ready for this or anything else that was promising in this vein.

A few weeks later, I was on my way having in my hand the address of the office of a certified hypnotherapist. It was a cold and gloomy March afternoon which I still remember vividly. It was snowing lightly. His office was located in the second floor of an art nouveau building with floral patterns on it from the previous century. There was no anteroom nor a secretary in the office. Just a large one-room suite... A big iron-cast stove in the middle of the office was burning coal, and the inside was simply way too hot for me. The hypnotherapist was an elderly gentleman in casual clothes. He would inspire trust at first sight, yet, it took me sometime to find the necessary comfort to explain why I was there. He just smiled, and took me to a puffy armchair. He instructed me to look at the ceiling and relax. He started counting down, and with each number, he said that I would further relax. What I remembered after that was a dream-like state:

I was in a desert under dazzling sunlight, and it was hot indeed. This was a working site in ancient Egypt. Hundreds of workers were around me, and it seemed that I was one of them. Each one of us was wearing a dirty piece of cloth around the body as garment. We all had dark and creased skin because of continuous exposure to sun, and although I was in my mid-thirties, I would look older. As the minutes passed, more details from my subconscious were revealed to me. I was a carpenter slave working in the construction of a palace. We had been working on this palace for a long time, and were close to finish it. The palace would be the venue for the celebrations of the twentieth birthday of the Princess Mystery.

The bricklaying phase of the palace was almost over, and it was the carpenters turn now. My job was to make the ornaments with my fine tools. I had a few scalpels I frequently sharpened with flint stone, a piece of shark skin which I used as corrosive, and stones and pebbles for hammering.

While working we would gossip about the nobles. We had to keep our voices down so that the inspectors and guards would not hear us. It was one of those routine and hot days, when we suddenly heard a commotion from one corner of the construction site. Guards were darting through the workers, pushing them to sides and opening a passage. This would happen from time to time when someone from nobility would come to the site. We had to squat down, turn our gazes to the floor, and never look at the noble who was passing. With cudgels in their hands, guards came all the way to my end of the site shouting: “Squat, heads down, squat!...” I stopped working, and squatted at that spot. We waited in that position whispering to each other. A few minutes later, the group of the nobles were passing by us. We could not look at them, but were able to see their shadows cast on us. They were not speaking among themselves at all as we the slave workers were not allowed to hear their voice. Rustling of their clothes, and jingling of the little bells around the neck of the camels were what we heard… In the middle of this procession, I got the most beautiful fragrance I had ever smelt, and as a reflex, I raised my eyes: there was this princess on her sedan-chair carried by slaves. She had a lyre in her hand, and her beauty was beyond words. The sun was shining behind her reducing her sight to a silhouette; but still she was incredibly beautiful. I immediately lowered my gaze not to risk my life.

Later in the evening, we learned that she was Princess Mystery checking the progress of the works for the palace. Because there were only a few months left for her birthday.

While working I would watch that scene again and again in my mind. I wished there had been a way to keep that image vivid in my mind. I focused on every minute detail on that very short memory. She was wearing a beige colored robe, and had a lyre in her hand. Even from that very short scene, I was able to notice that the lyre in her hand had not been crafted deftly. Previously, I had worked on the ornaments of a few musical instruments including lyres, and I knew that I was able to carve a better lyre than that one. On the following days, I found myself drawing the sketches of a lyre on sand at times. Just out of curiosity... However, I soon developed a desire to actually carve this lyre, and one day I stole a suitable woodblock from the big tent where they keep the construction material. I brought it to my own tent, and placed it under my bed. We would sleep on beds made of cane and raised from the ground on stakes. This would -to some extent- save us from the pests stalking at night.

I would wake up after a few hours’ sleep, and work on my secret project silently, while the others were in deep sleep. I would sit leaning forward on my bed (because the tent was too low to sit upright) and work under the moonlight that leaked through the opening of the tent. I also needed the strings. There was a supplier that would periodically visit the construction site to refill the material that had been used up. One day, with hesitation, I approached him, and asked if he could bring me three fathoms of silken string. When I made the mistake of telling him to keep this as a secret between us, the price was immediately doubled which I paid in chunks of silver.

I finished the body of the instrument in a month, lacquered it with varnish again stolen from the construction site, and placed its strings carefully. The lyre was made from rosewood, and colored in ebony red. Garlands of roses were carved on both sides. To increase the tonal qualities, the inside of the two arms of it had been scooped out. It looked more like an object of pleasure than a musical instrument. Plucking the strings would produce a crystal clear but soft sound.

At around the same time I finished my secret project, the palace was also completed. It was  now the turn of furnishers and jewelers who replaced us in the construction site, and we were taken to another site far away.

In this second site, I kept the lyre covered in a piece of flaxen cloth under my bed. Rumors reached to this site that the birthday of the Princess would be celebrated in a few days, and that on this occasion, a few princes would come to the celebrations, and propose marriage to the Princess. She would choose one from among them.

I thought, it would be a good idea to take my lyre to the celebrations, and give it to one of the servants of the Princess, to be delivered to her.

The day when the celebrations would be held was a sunny one. I woke up early, bribed the guards for my leave, and left the site with the lyre wrapped in clothes under my arm. After a long walk, I saw the palace on the horizon. Even from that distance, it was possible to see the immense crowd surrounding the area. There must have been an equivalent number of guards to keep the masses away from the palace. When I reached the crowd, my guess came to be true: the palace was surrounded by a ring of guards who constituted a wall of flesh. Inside of this ‘wall’, around the palace, there were acrobats and musicians performing their acts. In fact, as a slave worker, I was not allowed to come here, but no one was aware of me in this uproar. The Princess was probably in the palace, and getting ready.

Suddenly, the crowd got further stirred, and they started shouting: “Here they come!” Everyone turned to the same direction, and there appeared three separate caravans approaching towards the palace. They were proceeding slowly parallel to each other. “These must be the princes” I thought. People were saying that the leader of the first caravan was the son of an Indian raja. He was sitting on albino elephant which was milky white. Both the elephant and the prince himself were wearing clothes with hundreds of gems. On the left and right of the elephant there were guards with tigers on lead. Behind the elephant there were the gifts of the prince carried by tens of other elephants. This was the first time that we were seeing these animals, and people released a cheer. The second group was lead by an Arab prince. He was on a very tall and delicate red horse who had a golden necklace, and whose hoofs were plated with gold. He himself was wearing a golden armor. Behind him there was a small cart pulled by four cinnamon-colored ponies. On the cart, there were four infant girls with very fair skin, red hair, and green eyes. They were identical quadruplets. It was highly likely that these girls had been enslaved in a war with Caucasian tribes, and sold to the prince. The infants were obviously scared, but were still doing what they had been told to do: they were throwing jasmines to the surrounding crowd. Behind the cart, there were tens of horses with the presents of the prince. And the third caravan belonged to an Eritrean prince. He was riding a camel with two heads. This was a birth defect for sure, but it was a very grotesque look which caused great fear and surprise among the crowd. Behind the camel there was a chest filled up with pearls. It was on the back of a trained lion. Tens of camels were following the prince with gifts on them.

This was an incredible event for the people. Everyone was speculating on this or that, and no one was listening. Even the guards around the palace were enchanted. Some of them left the ring of the guards to have a better look at the three caravans. This was an opportunity for me. Through the gap they left in the ring, I sneaked inside the circle, and started walking towards the closest of the servants standing next to the palace and watching the goings on. With the most carefully chosen words, I would have asked if he could make sure that the lyre be given to the Princess. He saw me out of the corner of his eye, but his reaction was much more fierce than I had expected. His face turned pale, and he screamed: “A slave!... Here!... Be careful, he has something in his hand!” In a moment, guards surrounded me, and I saw their scimitars coming down on me under the shining sun.

saçma sapan insanlar..

Güzel geçen 2 gün sonunda bile böyle bir başlık atabiliyorsam eğer ,sinir olduğum insanlar yanı başımda oturabiliyorsa eğer.ya ben de vardır bir sorun.Ya da yaşamın ta kendisinde.İnsanları çözebilmek içlerinden geçenleri bilebilmek isterdim.Bazen kendi aptallıklarım beni yoran.bazen de yaşamımın kendisi inat olan.
Sıkıldım işte.
Boşa gülen insanlardan sıkıldım.

Yazmamak en iyisi.

sanki bir umuttu hep...

Değişim..
Talepler..
Sonsuz yalnızlıklar.
Sıradanlaşan uykusuzluğum.
Ben çok yorgunum.............