40-Necip

I'm in the attic, between your books, darling!" she cried downwards. "Old

books make a lot of money these days. I want to take a look at them." Did he

hear my last words? "It's very dark out there; wait, let me give you a flashlight." Good. It's not about money, actually, I'll read over and over again what I read.

For all my life, someone told me that I was constantly looking for attention. If

there was a mirror showing my smile; some light. "You'll break something in the dark." A flashlight reached up through the hole. The light at the end of the lantern illuminated a random, unimportant corner; bueli caressed. The hand disappeared. I wonder what he thinks? I'm sure he thinks I'm crazy.

For years but dusty, the spider had not emerged into the dark. Seeing the light, some insects escaped. scared; however, thinking it would be helpful strengthened him. Maybe I should have

done it without saying anything. I should have researched and written about the past, not knowing where you came from is as bad as not knowing where to go.

I don't know, actually I'm confused, research means food and time, sometimes I get confused; especially when my head is buzzing, here are the pictures; pictures of his mother and father. Among them, an old shoebag, he kneeled down, brought them side by side, old books ...

"Half of my soul" is the train journey that I have read many times.

Can I find a place for them? In the hallway, in the trunk room? I'm being ridiculous, Neslihan almost doesn't even want the books here; she quickly skimmed the layout of the house. Actually, I'm afraid of starting, maybe not being understood, maybe being ridiculous; but I can't live with fear! We don't know what it will bring, we have to leave our profession, the city we live in or our hometown where we were born and grew up. We don't just say goodbye to the walls we counted to ten by leaning our elbows on the corners and closing our eyes, we only say goodbye to our first love, it falls while walking on the road to attract his attention. Life also teaches us to say goodbye to our first love, for which we tripped and got scolded by the teacher. Here is the book that I bought and forgot about in a corner; "One day will be worth a century" by Aytmatov was a book I wanted to read for a long time, I wonder if I would like it as much as "The White Ship" because it described the inner world of a child as well as "Candy Orange". By the way, author Mikhail Bulagakov's doctorate quitting his job also impressed me a lot, I think it shows that he devotes his first priority to writing in order to complete his book. I think it's sad. Writing is a kind of disease or addiction, but it is definitely a harmless habit, it can be a natural result of reading a lot. You spend most of your time reading and after a certain time you feel the desire to convey what you read, for example a bucket placed under a constantly dripping tap. I now begin to overflow and you start to write down lines or long boring descriptions of the sentences you read, such as the spare container you put in so that the overflowing water drops do not get wasted. This can sometimes be in the form of long letters to a loved one, sometimes in the form of memories or essays.

The thing I am most curious about about writing a story or a novel is whether the author started writing after designing the introduction, development and conclusion parts in his memory, or did they suddenly change their mind while writing? Of course... not all of them lived today, but I think the vast majority started to write the story after shaping the story in their minds and concluding it. I think it didn't let it go, you have to be very patient to finish the book. It's a detective novel that I like less than the author's other books. I see it as today's Peyami Safa. you walked and borrowed Secondly, "Paper Women", which I read in street lights, has exactly the same similarities, so I have to admit it was boring to read both at the same time. If you want- "The Lion Soldier Shawik" was the beauty you were looking for, I got it at a time when I was bored with detective novels and it made me spend the weekend in joy despite all my lack of money, so I have to thank its author Yaroslov Hasek for this beautiful weekend. Despite the first world war in the background, his characters It is a fun book that is read without boredom with its selection and simple sentences. I remembered my military days, how fast the time is!

My professions in the military, marriage, social services...

She got out of her thoughts, then she took one of the pictures; he had left the lantern on the ground, he did not know which picture he had taken. He put it on a high place. He was a little fussy; he hit the index on a board. He staggered, fell to the ground; slight decrease. He did not dare to get up; he crawled to the lighthouse. In a bag. Emptyed: old photos!

With his finger wet tongue; first the dust was mud, then...she found his picture, the black and white picture of which he always laughed at, the border of my painting is sealed; here is the last person from the past; and he had to research it: SATENIK KIRKIRYAN.

As a child, he had witnessed that his older brother often asked his father the same question; why did my grandfather have no one, dad? then, when I remembered the blind answers, green eyes that told him not to bring up the subject with a stern look...

Being a child in a sibling's apartment meant growing up with fights. Four siblings and four flats and six different chances of "offending", the top floor with the bottom floor, the second floor with the first floor, the second floor with the third floor with the third floor with the fourth floor...etc..etc.. The eldest member of the Gümüştaş family lived on the top floor, that is, my aunt, the eldest member of the family studying at Cumhuriyet Primary School, always thought how old the school was. There were days when he shouted under the street lamp with a liquor bottle in his hand and made the neighborhood stand up late at night. a mentally ill person who is said to be born with, but of course meet and marry in a south eastern town in Turkey of the nineteenth century. This religious scholar, who gave a feast to those who listened to the Qur'an with his loud voice, where he memorized the Qur'an many times, which he was very intelligent when his mental balance was in the early days, became famous as a famous teacher in the villages. She used to shout in the town square with a bottle of liquor in her hand. Carrying out a married life with this person meant enduring ordeal for the aunt. After raising her four children, the aunt who managed to get divorced from this mentally ill hafiz who wasted everything she had, experienced the difficulty of being both a mother and a father on her own. He took care of his older brother Hakan, clung to life in poverty and died in his two thousandths, he experienced the greatest pain possible for a mother in the last years of his life, he lost his first child from lung cancer in his forties, it was difficult to bear this blow at his later age, he lived alone in his life alone. goodbye life a,necip experienced the closeness of his grandmother on the terrace where he went many times, but when they ran and played with Osman, they made a lot of noise.

They were often warned by their aunts that after many years, on a Sunday when the spring started to make itself felt, when the grandmother passed away after going back and forth between two worlds for a week, she became the eldest aunt in the family. In order for the grandmother, who was trying to end her century-old life, to go "to the other side" in peace, opinions were taken from the famous religious scholars of the town, her children should reconcile, and this dying old woman should have said in her ear, "Mother, the children have made peace", and a few days after the peace came, the grandmother really did not live. He said goodbye. Of course, it was important for a mother to hear this sentence before surrendering her soul. In the years when she was just entering adolescence, what she remembered was her mother kissing her older brother's hand and saying "you are my father", Osman's father crying like a child, his feelings and death's death at all ages. He realized that it was pain for man. When Necip.Anneanne died, Osman was not in town. He did not return to the town he left for medical education. His brothers Teoman and Hakan also settled in the cities they went to for university education. ...

He saw the white ship floating like a swan from ahead, I wonder if his father was the captain of that ship. Would he feel the warmth of returning one day? Could the father be a friend or brother when the time came, or he could be a sullen man who often scolds and sometimes beats, actually what does father mean? Although he knows the dictionary meaning. the meaning of this word was not settled in his mind, when he got out of the book and returned to his life, he spent the money he received from his father to buy bread, and when he returned home, he remembered the beating he took at the store where he took his father by the ear to get the money back, he remembered the day when he turned eighteen, he planned to get up early in the morning and steal money from his father and run to the seaside for a waitress, He was caught at the last moment and beaten again in front of the door. He left the question "Do you think he is a man?" unanswered, being a man was not perhaps turning eighteen, standing on his own feet, working only for one day while working as a waiter in that sea town and running away for the second day. be and confess In addition, it was very difficult to be a man, watching this vast blue and listening to the sound of the waves had a price. Necip felt that he did not have enough strength to pay this price. How deep was it? Was it bigger than the lentil washing pool in Osman's father's factory, and was the water yellow, he knew that every summer vacation his uncle took Osman in his arms and lifted him into the air and then threw him into the sea, they would set off in the early hours of the morning with the items they piled into the red-colored car with a wide back. For his cousin it was sand and sun, but for Necip it was to work in different workplaces, -to learn about life - relatives' children were apprenticed to the workplace of one of their relatives.

In this ramshackle place, the past was gone; he had khayali to start the project, "geniuses can come out of the children who come together," during his teaching years; when he heard this sentence, he left the book in his hand and drew a young man trying to sleep by watching the stars on a cool summer night; according to some, freedom fighter, according to some, terrorist...

young people who have always been on the agenda for the last thirty years; I wonder what young people think about love? If I had read an interview telling that those who entered a relationship are persecuted, what else in the world is there to lie on the grass on a cool summer night and watch the stars with your lover?

He was about to finish ninety-two years in this world, but his anger towards him was still not over, as I listened to him, I observed that people were more attached to the revolution in the first years. While we were walking around in the southern town far from the capital, the guard called us, he said one day, my mother and I were afraid. said the guard. he would talk about it with memories, he would often tell that he was beaten not only to himself but also to the children, especially that he chased my uncle with a line, and that, thanks to the reassurance of the shopkeepers who intervened in the street, my uncle, who was attending primary school in those years, returned from death, I felt that he was trembling, I don't know if it was from fear or hatred. or I would see him go out at a slower pace, I learned everything about him from my friend, he would often repeat how determined he was, that he loved to read and that my uncle was the most precious child among the four children. I couldn't understand why he was so important, but it was clear that he was a determined person, because he was somehow despised by the "noble" teachers in the school where he worked during his years as a substitute teacher, he closed his room and worked for days, successfully finishing the teacher's school and marrying the teacher's daughter of this small town's famous attorney. After his youth years when he was poor and partly orphan, his wealthy years had begun, he was a pioneer in many ways with his actions, he was one of the few manufacturers with the first phone and the first car in our town, moreover, he was known by the majority, the reason for this fame was benevolence, the sacks of pulses he divided into bags he used to distribute his food to the poor, he was again involved in charity distribution and collection activities on Eid al-Adha and now he was struggling with cancer.

There are two colors that influenced me, in my childhood I thought the color of the floor on which the basketball game was played was white, that's why I was first attracted to yellow, I met the second color when I was seventeen in the south, a wheatfield that resembles a green sea in the spring...

I witnessed the color change of the wheat sprouts released by the light wind with the summer season, and with the hot sherbet being poured next to the baklava master I worked with in my childhood, the yellow slices were sitting on the tray.

I also witnessed the green of pistachios flowing like a thin line between the kernels, but the geography I lived in had deprived me of the nose of the rainbow, however, in the nineties, the summer houses that started to replace the summer houses in the seventies -of course, the first of all, the high-income-level.

My meeting with the real high-income family took place in the year when the walls were demolished and the first Gulf War took place.

We visited this rich family on a summer day, the moments that we all have difficulties in adolescence are boring minutes spent in the guest house because we get instructions from our elders, say "Welcome", kiss your uncle or aunt's hand, hold slippers or cologne to the guest...etc. It always bores me. these conversations were too formal and sometimes too fake, the fact that the ladies who talked like a fateful friend before leaving became enemies after long conversations in front of the door after the closing of the outside door, and witnessing this great transformation made me hate these fake friendships and therefore being a guest. I was struck when the tulle curtain, which was left slightly open in front of the balcony door in the large living room where we were welcomed, moved with the effect of the wind, I was struck by this color, or rather this tone of this color, for the first time, so there were different tones in life, perhaps that was the wealth, seeing the tones that we poor do not see, yes I loved the navy blue that day, because it was the first time When I was looking at the vast sea, I used to dream of what I would do when I married Neslihan and I used to write pages full of letters and now I was enjoying the silence and darkness between books and pictures in order to escape from her; I guess now writing letters is outdated like our love... Messages written at a fast pace and without looking at the keys of the phone while being typed have made history the days when you smelled your lover and watched the postman's way for days. In the archive now love letters, glitter cards thrown before the holidays or New Year's Eve, cassettes divided into sixties or nineties, for hours to open and rewind. Slowly rotating cassettes inside the cassette player with colorful lights like rainbows on the speaker that I placed next to the TV, which I filled with cotton to record, filled the spaces at the top with cotton wool. One of the days when I was a teacher, when I heard the music coming from the back rows, I said, "Turn off that tape recorder". I was exposed to the questioning glances of young people who had no idea what the hell was going on, I forgot that they were right, my long journeys with the Walkman, the middle-aged travelers who slept snoring in the silence of the night, in the southeast, where I spent eighteen years of my life, in an environment where the smell of feet and breath were mixed. I remembered the long journey of about a thousand kilometers from which I "expanded" to the west for the first time in order to become a university student from his town. That journey meant the end of an era in my life, actually I think it means the same for all young people, it means independence. University life, as you get away from home, you dream all kinds of dreams, your first goal is Finding a friend of the opposite sex is the first priority of your life, it doesn't matter how many years you will finish school, you spend hours alone in the canteen to find friends. It happens when you go to class, you have a long search for candidates with your eyes in the classroom. I realized for the first time how much the influence of the town where I spent my childhood was in the first days of my university life. When I realized that the love affairs started among my friends, I was just at the stage of greeting and asking about the situation, but I should also mention that the first three relationships that were established the fastest did not reach the happy ending, when the school was over, everyone thought that the six people I mentioned would sit at the wedding table, but every It was a surprise for many of my friends, including me, that these relations, which lasted for five years, ended in separation. Most of my undergraduate friends were gone, it was as if I had been cast a spell and I was beginning to think that I would spend my next years in the university library, I was neither fully aware of the fact that I was a teacher nor a student. I would start walking around campus after dinner, wearing jeans instead of fabric pants. I read three books that had a great impact on me during this period. Jostein gardn watching the sun go down on the top bunk.

I was turning the pages of the famous Sofinin World of er with great curiosity, as if I had stepped into a new world, the magical colorful world of mathematics that I entered at the age of sixteen had left its place to the world of attractive and mysterious philosophy. After this book, which started with the question "Who are you?" Thanks to the "Alchemist" he read, I realized that just looking at the QA section in the library is equivalent to eating the same meal every night. After these two fascinating books, I was saddened by the last sentences of "Sugar Orange", which perfectly describes the pure heart of a child. Thanks to these three books, I am no longer literature. I started to walk around in front of the shelves and most of the top row of these shelves were filled with Aziz Nesin books, who, in my opinion, knew all the characteristics of the Turkish people well and had a very strong pen.

I started to read more because of my loneliness, my roommates were all in undergraduate period, maybe there wasn't much in common, why it was more attractive to read more than to chat, my life until the military period this system continued, I thought that I wouldn't have time to read a book together with the military until the end of winter

The first book of essays I read was Montaigne, even when I saw this book other than the one I read in my childhood, I thought to myself that they stole Montaigne's book, of course, I wasn't old enough to understand that the essays are a style! To work, to apply to games of chance or to gamble to get rich in a short time, there are "cafes" that play games of chance in many cities, people who hate reading at their desks, reading sports newspapers, grumbling at their desks, and going to a library as quiet as a library to get all kinds of information from the health status of horses to the injury status of football players. If this energy was spent on science, our country would make a lot of progress! I think that's enough for you to understand the problem. helicopters, people covering their knees with a tablecloth while the family is playing okey in the tea garden, and the city of Midyat, which I find interesting. Muslims and Christians are so intertwined and young girls walking freely with crosses around their necks. I saw the same scene years later on Rumeli street. It is very nice to have people of different faiths in a city. It is a proof of how tolerant that country is, I think it is a civilized country that cannot even tolerate minarets and is civilized at every opportunity. The best answer to be given to Europe, which claims that there is no such thing as a European religion, is the coexistence of people from different faiths and sects in our country. Our ancestors applied it perfectly during the Ottoman Empire. I think that even the decline of the empire, which embraced modern values ​​the most, lasted three hundred years. The empire could continue to dominate the Mediterranean for many years, I recommend you to read the Safiye Sultan series by Ann Chamberlain, which tells the palace intrigues very well. It was a lesson I especially liked to memorize the dates of the wars, so my primary school teacher called me the "chronological child". I think the numbers started to look attractive to me in those years. I learned that the numbers that appealed to me were discovered by the Arabs only in the history of science in my undergraduate education. In this course, Georges İfrah We had read the "Universal History of Numbers" series of . The author, who is a mathematics teacher, left his profession to look for an answer to his student's question "My teacher, where do the numbers come from?" When he entered the class one day, he went on a world tour and created this book by making a living as a dishwasher in the cities he went to. I must admit that I was sad when I saw it in the "cheap book" sections. I think the teachers have an effect on the lives of the students as well as the role of the students in the lives of the teachers. Think about it, if Gauss's math teacher hadn't had a headache, maybe this genius would have been noticed later, for those who haven't heard the story. Let me explain briefly, the math teacher who doesn't want to lecture says to keep the students busy, write the numbers from one to one hundred and add them and bring me the result, says the poor man, after about ten seconds, Gauss is sitting on the table with a notebook in his hand.

I wonder how he felt when he saw that he was standing next to him, if he knew that the answer was five thousand and fifty, he might be shocked by saying how he found it so quickly. If this had happened in our country in the eighties, I think the poor Gauss teacher would have gotten a clean stick from the teacher. Not everyone among us may be a mathematician, so let me briefly talk about the Gauss method. While his classmates were first adding one and two, he added a hundred with one and found one hundred, then two with ninety-nine. Then he added three to ninety-eight and found one hundred-one. Gauss, who decided that he would reach fifty hundred-one in this way, multiplied fifty by one hundred-one and found the answer: Five thousand fifty I think the largest number his friends found at that time was fifty-five. I think the secret of being a genius is hidden here. to collect in a certain order or planned being original instead of acting, not falling into any mold...

The other day, we were going to meet my friends in the city centerand I should have been at the cafe where we always played games and pulled each other out in an hour, the weather was bright, this beautiful weather was good by taking a walk and trying to lose weight my intention, maybe it would be helpful, I said to myself to walk hungry

It is my only place of travel when the needs imposed by life on people bore my soul. Because in the selfish and noisy environment of the world we live in, the other world has a peaceful structure that makes us forget the needs. There is neither greed nor jealousy in the clean climate of the hereafter. It has become a harmless habit every time I pass by this grave, looking at baby graves and doing math just because they have lived for one year. This unusable cemetery that I chose to shorten the road has a structure like an old crater, you go deeper as you go, the shortest way to the city center is through here. While I was reading the text "Aysegul KARADENİZ with silisteli", sometimes the "Hüvelbaki" article, half of which was deleted, on the other hand, I started to turn the pages fast in the not-so-thick blue book that tells the life of a foreign philosophy professor who retired from which university. Oh, last week, a philosophy professor retired from a university in our country told about the years he spent in his academic life quarreling with his colleagues for five hundred pages and the difficulties he faced while building a country house in the village of which province, and which is evident in every way that it was written without research and effort, which I bought cheaply from the BAG BOOKS section. This book almost turned me off from philosophy. This blue book was a hit, and at least I had the chance to read it from an author who sincerely loved philosophy, who seems to have put in a lot of effort. My right and left were wrapped in a veil of silence. Sometimes the sounds of birds make you want to live in this beautiful spring air, while the sounds of the city still remain. He was showing his disturbing skill. Everything in the name of life had vanished here. well, i visualized a picture in my mind, shrouded in countless corpses coming towards me while i was struggling to get higher from the deepest part of this crater, alas!

As if the poor dead were gathering in the deep pit in the apocalypse, as if they were preparing to give an account, I woke up from the world of dreams when I saw the father and the child who preferred the way to bike like me.