slate

This is a war, Not an attack, But a stance of defense, What am I to defend? Something which is mine, and only mine. ...

A small child plays, His father is upset with something, He beats his son, The son is probably filled with anger, Neither him nor his anger can escape, ...

I am on the edge of the bridge, I taste the gun in my mouth, I am counting the pills in my hand, I am looking at the train rails, I feel the coldness of the steel on my arm, ...

I am sitting on the ground. My back rests on a circular column. I must be tired. Still, I can see scary things happening around me. I am scared. I am terrified. I cannot think, I cannot move. That feeling is my whole world, my whole being. I do not know what to do. I am not able to think anything anyway. I am not there anymore; it is just that feeling. My existence is replaced by that feeling. However, soon something else is starting to happen; actually, it already started happening. I just realized that I am sitting. ...

Thought! Rise! As the most paranoid one, As the most disgusting one, As the most inhumane one, As the darkest one, As the most socially, culturally rejected one, As the most unthinkable one, ...

Oturuyorum. Karşımda. Tek boyutlu bir görüntü var. Ses yok. Hareket yok. Kimse yok etrafımda. Kuşlar nerede? Kimse gelecek mi? Bir önemi var mı? Dünya üzerinde. Hayal edebildiğim, görebildiğim o boşlukta, Tek başımayım. Korkuyorum önce. Panik olmak üzereyim. Çaresizim. O yoğunluğun, karanlığın, ağırlığın İçindeyim. Yapabildiğim tek şeyi yapıyorum, Ağlıyorum. Sonra birden. Aniden. Seviyorum. O anı.Önümde cansız bir şekilde. Yalnızlık. Ne kadar yalnızım. Ne kadar da yalnızım. Korkuyorum yalnızlıktan. Aşık oluyorum orada, yalnızlığa. Ölüyorum diriyorum yalnızlığımın içine. ...

I don’t want to do what I need to do, I cannot do what I want to do, I am stuck. ...

I need to go. I cannot stay here any longer. ...

A woman, With her little baby, little in any age, Her dear little, tinny baby, A baby, a child, a piece of her, Dies. ...

Pieces of glasses, on the floor. In smallest pieces, still visible to the eye, scattered all around. It is the pieces of glasses watching itself. The air can not help the pieces come together and make any sense of it. They stay there causing bleeding until the day water arrives and washes it all away. ...