46

SATINIC

-CIBIN-1914

They say I'm crazy, listen, when the townspeople in the village see me walking in my torn clothes or at the fountain, I hear them call me a witch. The priest gathers his clothes and quickly walks away from me. There are only fifteen of us in the village. I, who try to serve Jesus, feel very alone. My feet take me from the pavement to the outside of the village. I let him take me to the vineyards. My feet took me to the pasture where two little boys were herding the flock. With the inner strength guiding my feet, I took a few more steps and sat on a stone by the roadside and cried for all the purified ones who ever lived...

-"What do you think about marriage, Saten?" said Meryem.

What did he think about marriage? It depended on the situation, whether it was for himself or for someone else.

"It's time for you to find a husband"

Saten never moved in a hurry, her movements, which smelled of peaceful happiness and shyness, were completely under control, just like her thoughts. For Saten, she had to be a good woman "perfecta" and obey very serious oaths, but she was not idle towards Alpinaryan, but she did not understand why she should never leave Abdullah. Satin thought about his ancestors for a moment...

She thought about the girls who translated the Bible into their native languages and who were burned because of the slander of priests who coveted their chastity and who were often not recorded in birth records. Satin believed in transmigration of souls and felt that she had to do something drastic to avoid this fate awaited with fear.

He should have retreated into seclusion rather than continue to live among the evils of the perfect world. Saten thought about the great treasure of the Cathars (purified people) buried on the Montsegur hill; two hundred good Christians (purified people) who were trapped in the castle resisted the Pope's army for six weeks, but before the castle fell, the purified ones secretly hanging from the castle at night disappeared in the bushes. The good Christians were forgotten when they made new enemies after the purified church. Now they began to avoid their Islamic neighbors, not the church.

In the thirteenth century, Muslims had replaced the cruel Inquisition, tensions began to increase constantly, rumors that all Armenian subjects would be sent to the south due to the assassination attempt on the sultan had reached his pocket, Satin was thinking of reaching Lebanon without losing the treasure map that had been passed down from generation to generation for centuries since the Middle Ages. Montsegur Hill was the guarantee of the existence of the purified. Özgür It was that treasure that would enable them to worship in their own church in Armenia. Satin sighed and tried to turn her attention back to the task at hand. She was not as good at sewing as her sister Baiona. Her fingers looked like they were too big. Her thumb was a hindrance and her sewing was sloppy when she was thirteen and even now. It was not only her fingers that were not working, but also her mind, which was busy with dreams. On the other hand, Baiona, who was older than her, was making loops like the footprints of fairies. When she achieved a perfect rhythm, watching her was like a painting of imaginary flowers and trees created by brushes and paints. Dreams come true with her needle. Satin makes them come true. She was imagining that they would come out of the cloth and walk around the house talking about their hopes. Baiona had talented hands. Everyone said so. Leaving her napkin sadly next to her raw cloths, Saten looked around the room. It was a nice and cool place, with the sun's rays filtering in through the arched window. There were a few high carved chairs inside. There were two patterned tapestries hanging on the wall along with it: one depicting Jesus meeting at the well with the woman to whom he offered the immortal water of life (water of life); the other depicted the sacrifice of Isaac, and Abraham, as always, raised his pale hand and turned his head to take his knife. He turned it towards the angel, and to the side was a horned ram hiding in the greenery.

Saten could usually stare at these stories for hours, but today he turned restlessly once more and caught sight of the slender pillar dividing the grove and the meadow seen from the window. He was supposed to be a boy riding horses in the fields. He was not made for napkins and embroidery embroidery depicting stories. On the contrary, about him Stories had to be written! She imagined herself as the goddess of hunting, a combination of a boy and a girl who shot arrows and chased the deer with her dogs.

When Satin leaned from the window, he felt the soft air on his cheeks and wanted to scream, cry, sing, and hang his body from the walls of his adobe house. Despite the purists who say that after being born as a human, you do not come back in lower forms, perhaps he wanted to return to life as a bird in a creation. He thought that he remembered flying, as if it was something he was familiar with. Her behavior was to fly; while watching the stars at night, she dreamed of diving into the harsh winds in the mountains. She left the window and sat down. At that moment, her cousin Almaz arrived. Her aunt Almalia, who is now sixty-three years old, had given birth to six children. Most of the time, she wore plain long black. She walked from room to room to spin her kirmen. He was carrying it. His hands pulled the rope.Even as he searched and prayed in his mind, his eyes slowly turned around, trying to make sense of what was around him. Each fall of the kirme signified that the Master's Prayer had been finished. He paused at the threshold to finish it; because a good Christian would not pass through the door without reciting the Lord's prayer. The cousin, on the other hand, was young and beautiful, with a rose pattern. She was wearing a skirt and even her little steps were cheerful. Her eyes scanned everywhere and she loved to flirt.

"This is the way to happiness," said the mother silently as she threw her spindle into the hands of the children.

-To be Perfecta?

"Yes, if you choose. If you choose to be God's friend"

Of course, Satin grimaced when she finished her relationship with earthly life.

"She's getting taller," said the mother, showing her daughter to Saten; the cousin was getting angry at her talking as if she wasn't here and couldn't hear what was being said. She would like to have a beauty like Baiona, with honey-colored eyes and golden blonde hair.

"Satin, some girls get married when they are younger than you," said the cousin, adding that every girl needs a man to protect her. "Come on, if you are afraid of my mother, tell me; take your handicraft and I will get myself a napkin and help you; come on, aren't we friends?"

Satin bent her head towards her handiwork, she didn't want to remain a spinster all her life, and in the meantime she wiped her nose on her dress.

-"No, no! You should wipe it on a napkin, not on your dress" said the cousin; there is someone you like, right?

"Alpinaryan," he answered without hesitation, as if he was waiting for a great opportunity to mention this name.

"I'm always watching him, but he's not even aware of me," Saten poured out her heart to her cousin.

Alpinaryan was a well-shaped young man with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His dark hair fell over his mischievous eyes. Sometimes the Muslim boys of the village would put oil on their bodies and start wrestling; Alpinaryan would always join them and wrestle with Abdullah. Most of the time he would stay at the bottom. Despite his large size, he did not understand why he was at the bottom. SATen couldn't give it. Once, Alp wrestled with a group of Muslims, trying to force each other to crawl on the ground until their elbows were skinned, and drops of sweat and oil mixed together.

Saten was standing at the barn door. As the group got closer, her heartbeat accelerated. She looked like she was pinned to the spot. She couldn't move. As Alpinaryan got closer, she felt her voice getting hoarse and something stuck in her throat. She thought she was going to faint while her knees were shaking. While Alp was passing by with Abdullah, they were holding on to a deep conversation; Saten was Saz. At that moment, Alpinaryan had to get support from the adobe wall, from which the particles were flying out;

"Saten is here, my little Satin, how are you today?" he said.

He was stunned, he didn't know what to say, but even though he tried to say something, his voice was completely lost; it was as if he could feel Alp's breath and the drops of sweat flowing down his muscular shoulders, "I am neither yours nor small, what courage is this?"

However, Alpinaryan, who started to walk away laughing, did not hear the answer given in this forced low voice. He left Satin shyly in front of the barn with red cheeks. She gathered her skirt and passed the stone arch, not realizing why and where she was running. She ran to the river and lay down on the grass. Alpinaryan was strong. She was angry at herself for wanting to be in his arms so much, and when she realized how far she was from being "perfecta", the frequency of her sobs increased. She put her feet in the cool waters of the Euphrates.

That night, she dreamed of Saten Alp hugging her and pressing her sweaty body to her white and soft skin. Baiona was sleeping next to her, she was both her sister and her childhood friend. The two girls were sleeping so close that their legs were intertwined and their breaths were mixed.

-"Baiona!"

-"Baiona, are you awake?"

-"Huh."

-I want to speak to you ."

"What?"

"I'm ashamed, Baiona"

Baiona propped herself up on her elbow, trying to look with sleepy eyes at the white reflection on her brother's face in the dark.

-"Why are you ashamed?"

"Come closer to me; I'll tell you in your ear, I like Alpinarian."

-"Is he aware of this situation?"

-"Actually, I like Arogil too; let's talk about this in the morning."

-"Baiona, tell me you like me too, I need to hear it"

Baiona had already fallen asleep, as innocent as a longing dove. Saten had become a real woman at the other end of the bed, a woman who craved her man wildly, feeling wet inside, burning with longing. When I saw Alpinarian, I had to make my heart have wings and send a wave of love to him. Directly. "I have to look into your eyes," he sighed, "Satin."

The next evening, the singing session in the village square ended early.

"Does anyone want to walk?" said Alpinaryan.

While Satin was thinking that they were as happy as two puppies playing and running under the starry sky, they started walking. The weather was beautiful. Alp hugged Satin with one arm and pulled her towards him.

"Come here. I want to show you something," he whispered.

-"What is it ?"

-"Do you want to be satisfied?"

With careful steps, you will reach the secret and dark places formed by the fragrant olive trees.He took her to the dark labyrinth. The bushes were a little higher. Saten was uncomfortable but excited at the same time. Alp kissed her on the lips, pulling her dress with one hand and holding Saten's hand with the other. Saten was breathless when he touched the man's skin. She had never touched this part of a man's body before. Nothing. Alp, who guided her hand, was moaning with the caressing fingers. The organ between the fingers was getting bigger and bigger, Saten was not stupid or a child, suddenly that crazy thought came to her mind, how could this huge tool be buried inside a girl?

Alp now started to kiss her neck;

-"Don't stop!" said the alp.

She guided him again with her hand to reinforce her command. While she was rubbing the man's body against hers, their lips met and suddenly she felt wetness on her hand, something squirted onto her hand, her dress and the grass.

Rocking and trembling on his feet, Alp hugged Satene a little more and cleaned his manhood with his handkerchief. Suddenly, everything had changed. There was no more excitement in Saten; Now she wanted to cry, she felt abandoned, alone in the dark. All she wanted was for Alpinaryan to hug her and say a sweet word until her shaking stopped. Then she suddenly decided to be obedient, follow her man's orders and not wait. After she got home and washed, she immediately lay down on the bed. Had he committed a sin? Did God see him with a huge tool in his hand? Did the father, son and holy spirit approve of the love?

Saten sat quietly for minutes. She was praying silently, moving her lips. Suddenly she made a decision, got up from the chair and called out to her daughter.

-"Get up, you're leaving."

-"What do you want to say?"

-We will go to confess to the priest. By the way, you should know that Baiona will wear your silver dress.

Satin felt remorse in his heart.

-"Satin, wait!",

Baiona, who was running quickly in the courtyard, was almost begging.

-"I don't want your dress"

"There's nothing you can do, go in now," said Saten.

At that moment, Saten's heart told her that she had been betrayed. She felt sorry for herself. She wondered if anger and suffering were also shaping the words of the Holy Spirit.

The ceremony was short-lived, and now Saten was a clean girl again.

The first thing she saw the next morning was her neighbor. Even though the woman was too short to have to avoid the beam, she ducked her head and entered the small shelter and escaped from the mud of the courtyard. She looked around, keeping her hands on her belly. I think she was pregnant again, she was now running her hands over the secret baby hiding in her womb. Her eyes were like mine. He quickly walked around the clean mats I bought for my little bed and the stones I had collected for the stove outside. I was annoyed that he was looking around, so I left the wooden bowl and started going through my bag, turning the contents upside down. I wanted him to go away.

I squatted down and took a spoon of the soup. The soup was good. My hunger was like a monster sleeping in its cave; I sipped it slowly. The lady was standing next to me.

"It's beautiful" I said

I immediately crossed myself and then took the bowl in my hand again. "Thank you for picking up my son from the ground yesterday," said the neighbor, talking about his little son who fell while playing ball.

-Will you come to dinner with us tonight?

I thanked him and left the courtyard.

Cibin-1914-

SATENIC-

Well, you are right, I cried a lot. It was very difficult for me to confess.

Come on, cheer up little girl. Everything is not as bad as it used to be.

Is it so important that the priest warns me?

The village priest would take my hands in his hands and say, "Remember my child, everything is changing, the wheels of goodness revolve around evil, and the wheels of evil revolve around goodness. But the Almighty Jesus gave us a condition. We may be in pain, but we will not be alone in suffering. A spiritual knight always helps us. "

I was only fourteen years old and I did not tell the village priest about this thought, but I can share it with you. I did not want to make any contract with God, as our father brazenly watched the crucifixion and death of his only holy son, as did Isaac and Abraham. It seemed to me that our Lord Jesus was lying quietly and happily in his bed. He had to be resurrected after death.

What was the purpose of his crucifixion? God may make a deal with humanity to attract the attention of the fathers, but this agreement does not include the need for us to know the exact terms. It is good to stay away from God's holy vision. Don't focus attention on him. Of course, none of this is to the blessed good priest. I didn't tell him, it would only make him unhappy!

A mouse running happily in the thick grass at the edge of the bush passed by like a tiny sparrow with newly sprouted wings. I thought it was a mouse rustling in the grass, but on the contrary it was a bird. Whatever the bird or mouse was, it was free after all. Suddenly, my eyes met yellow and red flowers among the green grass. These colors Maybe it will be the color of free Armenia in the future, but I think my life will not be enough, yellow, red and blue are the colors of the sky, for example.

.For a moment, the grass spreading the green color around slightly swaying in the wind.I felt them inside me and at that moment I felt that I was not alone on the road. There was a woman coming towards me with a basket full of eggs. In the distance, right behind her, there were two people going to the field with scythes on their shoulders. As the men walked, their shoulders were shaking as if they were performing monotonous working movements. They passed in front of me while I was sitting on the stone. When they passed, I stood up, pointed the stick in my hand, and started walking after them. As the priest said, if I were to be a good Christian, Jesus Christ would follow me throughout my steps; I could do it now, as I have done many times before. As I prayed with blessed words for an hour, I noticed how the meaning changes with each repetition. And I was amazed at the relief that filled me. "The word 'our' was expanding from the different green grasses around, towards the difficult road and our Almighty Lord. Even if God sent his son to die, my arms were opening towards Him, as a child opens for his father. Heaven is no longer somewhere in the sky, but in the mowed grass between the trees. It was inside me, in its scent.

The road was forking ahead. While I was waiting to decide which direction to go, I made a hole in the ground with the stick in my hand. The sky in the west was descending, the clouds turned gray, as if a storm was coming. I was relieved of the panic that appeared in me. The reapers were standing at the beginning of the road turning to the right, chatting, leaning on the handles of their scythes. The woman was on the right. He was heading towards the side. I changed my feet and waited at "Y". In the small fountain here, there was the great Christ crucified with bleeding hands. I had heard that there was a saint in Italy who had stigmata settled on his palms. When this saint died, when they tried to remove the nails, they noticed that his hands were buried with their hands curled behind his back. Nails were placed in the saint's grave. After his body decomposed, his grave was opened and the nails were taken, and the saint was sleeping peacefully with a sweet smile on his face. People believed that these nails were healing.

With the nudge of the "perfecta" inside me, I turned to the left and remembered God's friends. There was no symbol of the hanging and bleeding body of our Almighty Lord. There would be no symbol of God, the Virgin Mary or angels.

Some people, including Muslims, believe that our great Lord did not die on the cross. Some claim that our Lord met his mother, half of the apostles and Mary Magdalene, and that they all came to Marseille and taught the belief in purity there. Some people claim that perfectas and perfectuses are descendants of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. They claim that I don't know what to believe. In the village, we all attend Sunday mass and confess, but there are also those who worship in two ways. Why shouldn't we? We were all cousins or brothers and were respectful of the opinions of others. The priest who attended our service stated that there was no perversion, and sometimes I felt like I was among Islamists. I see myself as someone who believes in Alevism, which is a sect, and Sunni Muslims describe their rituals as perversion and describe them with the phrase "playing with candles." In fact, there was no perversion other than looking at the young men sitting across from us with shining eyes. I was alone on the road I was walking on. This road was rarely used, the grasses were just the path. It covered not only the bumps in the middle but also the ruts caused by cars. I noticed that the air was starting to cool down and a track appeared against the gray clouds clustering in the sky. I shuddered at the thought of spending a night without fire, perhaps shivering under a tree in the cold, defenseless against wolf attacks. .

Coming up from the bottom of the road was a wagon and a farmer, drawn by a gray horse with its long white tail scraping against its muddy heels.

"You look tired while climbing the hill," he said, looking at me. I looked at him too. Thanks to your kindness, I would like to rest my feet for a while. I pulled myself onto the car and placed my body between the baskets.-

"It's nice to be swept off your feet," I said, as we walked silently up the hill, taking the time to look around on the winding road with views of the distant mountains and to tidy up my hair and wonder why my heart was singing uncontrollably. A lark had taken off in front of us. However, suddenly my hands were flying. I noticed that they were as rough as a cook's hands. They lay like sausages on my lap. Broken nails were filled with dirt and his skin was burned and red. He remembered for a moment that in the Middle Ages, the hands of nobles were cleaned with milk. We would comb our hair with baiona, paint our lips, and dance in the courtyard with our milk-colored gloves on.

cibin(Saylakkaya)-Toros Mountains /1914

"According to the saying after the assassination of the Sultan, we are no longer a loyal nation," said Arogil, while rolling tobacco.

"Have you heard the last decree?"

He turned to the people in the cafe, all of the people in the village cafe, some smoking hookahs and others slurping their coffee, were Armenians.

-"Every boy over the age of fourteen and every girl over the age of twelve will take an oath of allegiance to the Islamic faith; this oath will be renewed every two years, boys must attend prayers every Friday without exception. None of the Armenians will become a doctor, even if they work in compulsory situations. "When a patient dies in the hospital, there will be no Armenian doctor next to him."

A scene came to life in my mind: "I had healed the little boy and been next to the dying woman. And now I stood up from the stone where I had paused to rest and walked, leaning on my staff. I was running away from the soldiers of the Sultan whose breath I felt on my neck."

This short play of Arogil did not attract enough attention, but what he was going to tell next almost caused outrage.

-"No one will read the Bible in their native language; the Bible written in Ottoman will be read."

Everyone looked at each other, frozen in surprise. An old man spoke;

"But who needs to receive the Word of God?" he asked. The old man said that the Bible would be of no use if we only had hymns and prayer books.

-"We will not surrender!" Arogil shouted. I promised myself right then and there that I would fight by his side for the rest of my life. I could have died for him, and yes, we would not give up!

We spent more than an hour repeating and discussing the laws. These prohibitions tightened the noose of oppression. We would refuse to denounce our friends, cousins, and wives.-

"The devil must be none other than these Muslims!"

"NOW ANY PERSON CAN EASILY SEEK HIS LAND BY INFORMING HIS NEIGHBOR OF JOINING THE REBELS.

I felt a rush of wild joy as Arogil put his arm around me and embraced me. He and I could fight together and love each other.

"My brothers!" Arogil said; Dashnak gangs are waiting for our support, the value of freedom can only be understood when it is lost, I would like to fight and die like a man rather than stay here and be the dog of the Ottomans, those who are with me should be ready in front of the cemetery half night, they will come and take us over, are you ready to fight for independent Armenia?

The crowd approved with great enthusiasm. Arogil did what he would do again and used his persuasive skills to the fullest.

It took twenty days to walk to the Taurus Mountains. For the first time, Alp was so far away from home, not only from home but also from Apoya. In fact, after his marriage to Meryem, their friendship ended and the friendship that ended over time made it necessary for them to separate. While walking, he couldn't help but look at the beauty of the view, while the wind was waving the wheat field, the olives were shivering under the thin leaves. trees...

While walking, he looked up and saw the snow-capped mountains in the distance, and this beauty impressed him.

During this long walk, Arogil was giving him information about the purified people, especially the legendary bishop of the purified ones.

This bishop was so spiritual that he did not even need to sleep. He had been living in a cave at the top of the Taurus Mountains for twenty years. It was said that he did not speak during this time. It was very difficult for him to return to daily life after this life, the legend goes, and over time he overcame this difficulty and got used to daily life.

Arogil explained that the legend was a little man with tiny and shapely hands and feet. However, he was so strong that when the legend was walking on the street

An invisible wave of greeting spread. People wanted to kneel at his feet. The legend had such a gentle and heartfelt sincerity that when you met him, you thought you had been waiting to meet and talk to you all your life. The presence of the other person made him so happy!

The reason for this was his smile and shining eyes, but everyone knew that what differentiated him from others was his vision. His intuition was strong. His superior intuition could penetrate the cover that covered the unseen. It is even said that thanks to this ability, he sensed that the Sultan would be assassinated and sent the news to the palace with messengers. No one related to the Armenian community. He knew a truth that he didn't know. I wonder what this truth is.

It was impossible not to be impressed by the view of the mountain extending like a finger upwards from the plain. The entrance to the giant cave, which would be their place in the future, was large; it had two or three separate entrance doors. One of them was wide enough for an oxcart to pass through. This was the "SAFE MOUNTAIN" that could not be captured.

Leaving the guards below, Alp and Arogil were walking on the winding path. They were pulling themselves upwards by holding on to the skinny pines that grew everywhere.>The smell of pine filled their nostrils. The trees were as simple as snakes that had snaked out of the rocks and wrapped their roots around them, ready to wrap around their feet.ALPINARIAN While climbing the mountain, each He had to follow my name.

Now they're out of breath and their chests are pounding.

While going up and down the river, they stopped in front of a large rock to look around. The town of Zeytun was visible below. There were medicinal herbs on every stone ledge that appeared among the cultivated lands and wooden or stone huts.

The huts were leaning against the walls of the castle like children, and they bulged and protruded into the sky from the height above.

"Let's meet the LEGEND" said Arogil.

The man leaning on his staff wore a leather jacket and had copper-colored hair and blue eyes. Before reaching the courtyard of the cave, Legend eyed the two men.

later

-COME CLOSER!"

he said to Alpinaryan, pulling him close enough to make him feel his breath,

-"Stay away from those who have JINNS inside you!" he said.

Arogil hollowed out a loaf of bread and filled it with stew, then handed it to me.

-"Beautiful"

"Hmm," he replied. It was almost dark. We were eating dinner in the cave while the first star was shining on the night stand.

-"Are there wolves in these mountains?" I asked. Even though I had never seen them, I was afraid of wolves after all these years.

"Sometimes they go down to the villages in winter," said Arogil. "When the winter is hard and the snow is thick and they can't find food."

He was chewing his bread slowly.

-"I once heard of a monk who tamed a wolf. Do you want to listen? His name was Francis; birds were fed by the man's hands. Once a wolf went to the town in search of food. The townspeople wanted to kill the wolf, but the monk said that God Almighty forbade us to kill." .

-We went to the mountains to kill the Turks, but "

-"We are killing for free Armenia and not to become slaves to Islam," said Arogil.

-"Do not interrupt, listen to the rest of the story, the monk told the townspeople that he had tamed the wolf; while the wolf was looking for food in the village, the women entered their houses screaming and locked their children behind the wooden window shutters. The wolf slowly wandered around the village, swinging from side to side. The townspeople had their hands full to kill the wolf. They gathered with their knives and nets, and at that moment the monk came. He raised his hand and the wolf bowed before him like a house cat, bowed his head and knelt down.

Then the holy monk took the wolf's head in his hand and told him that it was wrong for him to eat the villagers' children and animals, and that God and the townspeople would always protect him if he stopped this habit. The wolf understood this and lived like a faithful dog in the town. The townspeople fed him.

-"I guess you couldn't find anyone to do this in Halfeti," I said after thinking for a minute or two.

-"Feeding a wolf," said Arogil and shook his head.

-"Once upon a time there was a brave knight who had a nice, large and loyal hunting dog. This dog was famous for its gentleness towards its master. It had a gray fur and strong teeth. The knight got married and his wife soon gave birth to a strong and healthy baby. He had the dog protect the baby. They gave the task. One day, the knight and his wife went hunting, and while the dog was on guard by the cradle, what did he see? A WOLF!

A wolf came out of the forest and a fight to the death began. When the knight returned home, the crib was upside down, the baby was gone, and the dog was smiling at its owner with blood from its mouth. The knight cut off the dog's head in one go and was still trying to drag himself towards him to lick his master's hand. While the knight was watching the animal that killed his baby, he was smiling from his cheeks. Tears began to flow. Then suddenly he heard a sound in the bush under the trees. The baby was happily sucking his thumb and there was a wolf carcass next to him.

What a sad story, isn't it?"

"This is a story about acting without thinking," I said. After thinking for a while, I asked, "Who would leave a baby alone with a dog?"

"This is just a story," said Arogil. It was night and the stars were winking at us; we had walked to the Taurus Mountains from Halfeti and joined the Dashnak gang; the stars covered the sky, close and cold, like grains of sand, like grains of gold.

-"It's time to go to bed," said Arogil. Meanwhile, I took my knife in my hand and always kept it ready with me when I went to bed.

Another day: time to hide my knife.

Arogil had taken the weapons to the caves higher up. First, I looked all over the cave and felt the happiness of waking up to the new day while standing and breathing in the fresh hay-scented air. At that time, I thought of Satenik, for the first time in days, I was thinking of someone other than myself. The strangest thing is that I was busy with the future rather than being stuck in the past. I was dying. I looked first at the black stones on the threshold and then at the landscape. Above, a milky sky lay above clouds that looked just like running sheep or the reflection of the foam on the tops of the waves. There was a beech tree on the slope of the hill. The roots of the tree, diving into the ground, were holding tightly to the depths. In the muddy spot between the roots. It only took a few minutes for me to dig a hole and insert my little book, protected by green rags, into the knotted roots in this hole. After filling the hole with mud, stones and straw, I placed the wet grass neatly around the covered hole. When I took a step and looked from a distance, the hole was not visible.

"Where were you?" said Arogil.

-"Nothing, I wanted to take a walk.

just "

-"Walking?

"I just wanted to see the fields below from here, that's all."

Arogil was silently examining me. I could tell he was thinking about the lie I told, and he knew I was lying too.

"If you must know, I went out to look around. Now I came back for the water buckets. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a bath."

Arogil stood thoughtfully for a few minutes, running his tongue between his teeth. What did he really know about Alpinaryan? He knew that there were a small number of purified people in the village, but he did not know whether he was a member of this sect, and there was no need for divisions when you could unite and attack the Turks. However, Alpinaryan once knew The whole village knew that he was very good friends with Abdullah. Could Alp work for the Turks in the gang?

It was necessary to watch him carefully in his first actions.

-"Alp!" said Arogil while cleaning his rifle;

-Why are we in the caves of the safe mountain overlooking the town of Zeytun, do you have any idea?

ALP looked at him with blank eyes.

"NO," he said, looking like he wanted to cut the conversation short;

-"This is where our first armed rebellion against the Ottomans took place," said Arogil.

-"When our grandfathers killed the governor of Maraş, they blockaded the town for 7 months and committed massacres, and we will take revenge for those days on August 30!"

2014,Eskişehir/Türkiye

NECIP

I have no hope anymore, I have to forget the past. I'm tired of playing the role of the husband who was left alone with a 19-word farewell letter one morning, and I'm tired of writing unanswered letters...

The strange thing is that the psychological state I am in is the same as the mental state of the hero of the book I am reading. Maybe I have told you about this, this is my secret talent, the talent bestowed on me by the spiritual being that appeared above my sister, who was hanging from the 4th floor when I was a child - a gift she gave without expecting anything in return...

It was as if this spiritual being was formed by thousands of small soap bubbles coming together; there were perfect circles, and maybe it would be more meaningful if I said that each circle - because it was not just superficial - was in the form of filled bubbles.

Imagine that one day the person you love leaves your life without any explanation, here is the new hero I started to live with, Galip, someone who earned his living as a lawyer in the eighties, a lawyer who lived in the past, did not give up on his childhood love, and eventually managed to become the second husband of this beautiful girl, what kind of feeling does it actually feel to be the second? The situation is not made clear enough; this unfortunate hero, who studies until the morning, suffers from insomnia and watches his wife while she sleeps and thanks God for being in his life, goes on a journey after his wife leaves him. As he passes through the doors that open to the past, new chapters and new pages begin to form, my superior talent. Thanks to this, I became the hero of many books, but I found it difficult to be the abandoned husband - who knows, maybe this difficulty is a result of being abandoned in my real life. In my opinion, the most important feature of our book, which is ideal for getting to know the Istanbul of the eighties, is the psychological impact of your feelings and understanding when you read the same page at different moments. It changes depending on your situation, it's like a 500-page poetry book!

The book is filled with critical words, sentences and historical information and references that will leave you impressed. For some reason, Vathek, which the author states that he has always read with pleasure, is a pocket book that can be finished in half an hour for me...

What's different about the book, which I found absolutely boring when I first started reading the same sentence a few times and left it unfinished, is that, as the author stated, it is a "picturesque" book, let's call it the Turkish equivalent of this word, the art of painting with words.

Of course, the same question comes to our minds? What impressed you the most in the book you read? If I were the addressee of this question, I would have to admit that I was influenced by the section WHEN the Waters of the Bosphorus Recede. After the childhood memories in the introduction, this article, which is presented as the column of the dream's step sister, dives into dark waters. The moment when the car falls into the water and the fish eggs that find a place for themselves and shelter in the algae-covered seats are beautifully depicted. If the liar subject of our book, which has two themes, the main subject and the liar subject, interests you, you can read the first and the last chapter and reach the conclusion. After all, the beautiful woman who left does not return to her home. And our story ends. Then what is the point of reading the four hundred pages in between?

At this point, the real subject of the story begins. A man reliving his past, sometimes returning to his university life in the complicated days before the coup, sometimes returning to the Ottoman Empire. Between the lines of the book, the effect of Yeşilçam on people is revealed. The remarkable feature of the book is that you experience this situation while reading it, with special talents like me. You don't have to be rewarded!

I think everyone who browses the pages of the Black Book is curious about Saim's magazine collection, and I am also curious about the story of Ahmet Yılmaz. Galip made up the story with the aim of meeting her first husband. Ahmet YILMAZ, a university student who was shot while writing on the walls.

Is this story entirely a product of the author's imagination, or was it taken in whole or in part from another source? I think this would be the first question I would ask if I had the chance to talk to the author. Some sentences in the book impressed me very much. The sentence "Sewing box with jam dripped on the edge" was on the table every morning. I remember the moment when I spilled jam on the cover; I relive that moment. Another picture that comes to my mind is the basement that Master Bedii filled with mannequins. Were the mannequins unqualified and unqualified as claimed in the book?

While writing these lines, a picture appeared in my mind again, the plastic dolls with opening and closing eyes sold in Aladdin's shop.

Shady men who suddenly bought these plastic dolls one night...

Were these dark-looking men wearing long coats, carrying a huge cigar in their mouths and a fedora hat on their heads, or were they unbuttoning the top two of their shirt buttons, exposing their hairy chests to people's eyes, stepping on the back of their shoes, squeezing their smelly feet into their egg-heeled pointed-toed shoes that doubled as slippers, waving a rosary in one hand, and gently patting them on the shoulder? Were they men who made someone succumb to gravity?

This spiritual creature that gave me talent made a new surprise; my dear friend, "my grandmother", with whom I spent my youth, is back.

He left this world on April 17, 1994

-"Welcome, grandma!" I said.

It was very nice to see him again after twenty years, but it was very sad that he did not recognize me. In fact, he was not wrong. My thick curly brown hair, which the comb had difficulty in advancing, had disappeared with a hocus-pocus. My friend, who used to caress my curly hair and asked to lend it to me during our long conversations in my youth, did not like my new appearance at all.. I told him what happened while he was away, sometimes I gave him good news, sometimes I gave him bad news, first I gave him news that would interest him from afar. I stated that the physics teacher, whom he compared to a turkey, had died, but despite the time that had passed, there were still survivors. On the same day, one year after Özal. My dear friend who passed away did not wish me much good that day, that is, the day the President passed away, but he was surprised that the Isparta shepherd Sülo was still alive. I saved the worst news for last, as he stated many times, when I told him that his favorite child - my uncle - had cancer, he stood motionless for a short time. He stayed, his thick glasses looked as if they were about to fall to the ground. Since it was obvious that he was upset, I tried to cheer him up. I told him that the treatment was successful and the disease was progressing very slowly. Since he saw his first daughter and second son on the "other side", I didn't need to talk about them. In fact, he took his second son out of this world. I told my friend that I had a nephew after him, but he left this world 10 years later. After I lost him, I told him about the countless drugs I used, the girls I fell in love with and wrote poems to for hours during sleepless nights, and then I told him that I was trying to write a novel.

In my dreams, I would see him alone in his dark hut, as always. After death, the soul comes to our world from the afterlife for a short time and we see our deceased relatives in our sleep. Most of the time, our deceased relative does not move or speak, and he looks like he is blind. When you call him, he hears the voice, but his eyes are different. He looks to the side. In the first years when I lost my nephew, I saw him in my dreams. As a result of the loss of a ten-year-old child, it caused post-traumatic behavioral disorder in me and this disorder opened the door to sleepless nights. As we mentioned before, in a chapter of the Black Book, the name of which I cannot remember at the moment, I had insomnia like me. The author, who is in the grip of the malady, reads and writes until the first light of the morning, and leaves himself tired in the warm arms of his beloved wife in the morning. In my opinion, the best proof that the author is a picturesque writer is the first page of the book. On the introduction page, his wife sees the bed where the dream is lying, her chin buried in the pillow, and while watching his wife, he concentrates his mind. It's as if the lawyer Galip, who wants to study, watches his beloved childhood love, it's happening right next to us. Who knows, maybe I'll draw beautiful pictures in my novel, which tells the story of my grandfather, whose real name is Andre, being raised in a Muslim family and changing his name, and about the innocents who were deported and the Armenians who formed gangs and rebelled. The most important issue is, of course, deportation. This issue has been written about many times in its centennial year, and both sides have tried to prove their rightness. In my opinion, it is an argument with no winner, and when I decided to write the story of my grandfather, who passed away without knowing his family at this late hour of the night, I only had two pictures of him and I have a collection of information consisting of official documents written in Arabic letters. Perhaps my only helper in this regard is a spiritual being. It is a spiritual being that gives me the ability to live the books I read, allows me to meet with the dead, and allows me to exercise my right to "change" whenever I want in my life, even if just once.

-"You can change it, just once, don't forget!" said the spiritual being. His face was like unused white paper like his body, he had no eyes, nose and lips, but when looked at from a distance, he looked human.

"What is the moment you want to change in your life, Necip?"

You are in high school, do you remember your classmate who always looked down on you?

"Foureyes Necip!" Secaeddin appeared before my eyes, he had curly hair and big teeth,

He suddenly humiliated me by saying "Necip passed out in class!" even though I didn't do it and I didn't know who did it. Does he have to say these words in front of my first love?

"He humiliated you, he deserved it," said the spiritual being.

-"Yes, he deserved it, but I didn't want it to be this way!"

-"You can change it, you don't want to feel remorse for the rest of your life, right?"

You started fighting with him, you were right in front of the blackboard in the middle of the classroom, your classmates formed a circle around you and watched carefully because it was a moment that should not be missed, somehow you stayed behind for a moment, and threw a punch that you didn't know where it would lead, (Necip went back to his high school years in the classroom, the blackboard and Mathematics formulas written on it) Although he called you four-eyes, the left glass of his wire-rimmed thin-glass glasses broke with your fist and made his left eye bleed. After the fight, he went to Ankara for treatment. Secaeddin, long journeys, long expenses, despite everything, you caused loss of vision in his eye, a young man's death.

You caused him to live the years before him with almost one eye! 'Perhaps you would like to use this disposable right at another time,' said the spiritual being.

How about using it when you live far away from the city center and live in a quiet country house?

-I didn't know that he would die that night, he was cheerful throughout the day," said Necip (started to cry)

--"You can change it, you don't want to feel remorse for the rest of your life, right?"

The hospital was too far from your home, you lost it on the way, maybe you could make a change in your life. Instead of living in the forest like a secluded monastery nun, you could live in the city in a house with people - close to the hospital - so that your ten-year-old nephew won't die of blood loss before reaching the hospital," said the spiritual being.

-"You can change it, you don't want to feel remorse for the rest of your life, right?"

The room had now turned into a room in a country house, and in front of the door was a little girl with severe bleeding... Necip continued to cry.

-"Will he live then?"

-"It's entirely up to you, at least he will still be alive when you reach him."

- Didn't you hear the doctor, he said there is no chance of survival in sudden bleeding that happens a week after the surgery; - even if there is a chance of three in a thousand -

-"You can change it, you don't want to suffer from remorse for the rest of your life, right?" said the spiritual being.

You are in the exam that determines the spouse you will live with throughout your life, and you have the right to change it. Think about the great gift I gave you! Instead of living as a miserable academic candidate as you do now, you will pass the exam - like Sucaeddin and your other friends - and choose a comfortable life, your family will be proud of you everywhere. You may be the sole heir of a rich family.

The room had turned into a classroom, while the teachers on duty were pacing, Necip, who believed that the exam would be canceled if he walked out with the question paper in front of him, was trying to answer Mathematics questions at the back. Dilek was smiling in the next row, the only thing she had to do in order not to lose this smile was to lie to her family, thus establishing the relationship they started during their university years. They were going to end it with marriage. Dileğin was not going to tell her family about her deceased first husband, who would keep her past secret, but she failed and lost, choosing Neslihan as her husband candidate.

- "Don't decide to get married until you're sure," said Dilek.

-"You can change it, you don't want to suffer remorse for the rest of your life, right? You can change the turning points in other people's lives if it will affect your life," said the spiritual being. I guess you don't want to go to prison because of a traffic accident?

Necip remembered his days in prison, his first day was troubled, he first met Arif Baba, who was mentally unstable, Arif Baba asked him why he fell and how long he would spend in prison. Arif Baba was hitting the concrete pavement with the rake in his hand. His mouth was almost sunken in due to his missing teeth, he had dirty hair and a gray beard, He often repeated the same question, where is your real hometown? The driver said that the man should pay attention to four things, son, one insomnia and two carelessness!

-"Why didn't you pay the compensation?"

I said I didn't have money, I added that the few days would pass quickly, he kept lifting the rake frequently and hitting it hard on the pavement, he was trying to pull out the short grass between the paving stones and disperse the petrified mud puddles. When I mentioned my hometown Nizip, he suddenly shouted, Bici Bici!

Islahiye, Adana, Bici Bici! First, he talked about the friend he was angry with, and then he talked about his aunt's siblings, who often ran away.

-"Is it appropriate to be here at this age?"

Sometimes, while he was talking logically, he suddenly raised his rake in the air and started yelling, sometimes at me and sometimes at the prisoners pacing in front of him.

"You can change the turning points in other people's lives if it will affect your life," said the spiritual being. Don't you want your platonic love from your university years to reciprocate you? What wouldn't you give to see Gökşen turn to the back row and smile at you, at least once, when you watched her for minutes, right?

Dear GÖKŞEN;

02/02/99

Lesson hours are so short that they end with watching you. There is no time to write to the virtual Gökşene, because the real one is sitting right in front of me. I don't know how many letters this is to you, but I did not receive an answer.

If your silence is nothing more than a sign of a great deal of complacency that manifests itself in the form of reluctance to write, I would be extremely pleased. You are trying to teach alone in that gloomy village, and it touches me that you have no one with you. Did you like the gift I sent you with my letter?

I hope you use it on good days, I hope you will remember me every time you hold it.

In our last short conversation (3 minutes, 52 seconds), uneasiness and anxiety left you completely. I remembered our conversation between classes in our first year years ago. After this conversation, did we walk together or did we pass each other?

I don't remember; the difference between these two possibilities shouldn't be too big. Is your house beautiful?

Your voice seemed hoarse on the phone, if you looked at it a little you would be fine, what I wouldn't give to be with you right now and take care of you!

You will also have to read the written papers. If you spend even a minute of your sleep on this, I will be hurt again, just like the day you hurt me in front of my friends. You ask about my engagement status, I got engaged twice - we can actually say three - and once I was on the verge of marriage, of course this process wore me out. .The first one is completely in the past, how enjoyable it is to watch those letters catch fire as he burns the letters he wrote one by one!

My last fiancée is still single, there is not the slightest chance of getting married, and he lives an independent life at the expense of his family.

When I look at this issue and other things in general, I realize that perhaps men suffer more, or from another perspective, they have less power to resist in this regard. Whereas women always suffer innocently, and not "out of control" but in the real sense, which actually maybe This again leads to 'out of control'. Just like the desire to make an effort to overturn a single cauldron in hell; the first one is of no use, and even if the second one works, one will burn in the hot substance flowing out of the cauldron, but hell remains in place in all its glory. Above all, lie down in your warm bed and enjoy the disease. For two weeks, if you ask me. I am struggling with insomnia and headache attacks. There were people who suggested that I get specialist help, but psychiatrists only prescribe medication and when I see people using these medications, I feel sorry for the poor people!

I wrote you the poem "If I Said" on the last page, I think of a different aspect of you every time I read it. Since I have to stay in the state dormitory with the students while working as a teacher, I spend my nights reading poetry and novels. Gökşen, do you know the story of Dostoyevsky's first work? A lot of things. It is a story that summarizes the story. At that time, they were sitting with their literary friend. His friend saw a pile of drafts on the table for months, but the original text came into his hands only after the novel was finished. He read it, was amazed and took the book to the famous critic of the period without saying anything to the author. The next day, our author knocked on his door. The critics who came hugged and kissed him, they chatted about the novel for two hours, and the writer, who said that that night was the best night of his life, shed tears of happiness. Where did my insomnia take me?

I will write again tomorrow; today I am writing only for myself, to have done something for myself, just to get rid of the happiness created by your letter, otherwise I will feel its weight on me day and night.

03/02/99

When I call you, your conversation with me, even if it is very short, gives me courage. Will we read these letters and show them to our grandchildren years later? I have hopes that we will get married, don't you think that the feelings I had for you when I was only in the second grade continued even on the day we started life is a sign of this? During our four years of education, you ask me on which day you made a hopeful move, actually I didn't tell you on the phone, that day you gave me courage. It was the first day of summer school - at least for one day. I felt like you were interested in me, you asked me how my holiday was and what I was doing, you treated me coming to you from the back row as if it were an ordinary event. The next day, while I was waiting for you in the same row, I saw you waiting at the door and smiling at me, what good days those were!

Think about this, maybe the best times of your life were the first days of summer school, I record our short conversations with you on my phone and listen to your voice over and over again, now whenever I want to hear your voice, all I have to do is press a button, long live technology!

I listened to his voice carefully, that is, I paid attention to the changes in his tone during the conversation we had on Sunday (5 minutes and 33 seconds).

In our conversation, you told me that you thought I was getting married, so you preferred to be the more "sincere" Gökşen instead of the "distant" Gökşen in your old school days. Isn't there any point in me calling you and finding the school you work at and your number, even if I'm married? That speech that took up two minutes of the conversation - the same At the time, it had a pure and proud air - it was as if you encountered steel, not your heart.

If a person meets an acquaintance and asks them in a careful tone what two and two are, the other person will probably think that you have lost your mind, but the same question means something to a child studying in the first grade of primary school. In the question I asked you, the two come together, and your answer is sufficient explanation. I couldn't find it, you say that your star has never made peace with me. In fact, when I got out of bed this morning, entered the damp-smelling cabin in the dormitory bathroom and started to take a shower, this word stuck in my head, me who spends my minutes thinking about you and you who said that we could be nothing.

You underestimate the impact of your words, darling, I love you very much, I wrote your father's name on the envelope, I don't want your friends at school to read my name, I will be careful with the envelopes I use, the envelope will be made of straw paper - as you wish - in our last conversation, I said that I put my letter in a thin envelope, the school principal said, "Mrs. Gökşen."

You said, "There is a letter from your father" and read the sentence "I love you" without handing the envelope to you. The school principal may have wondered whether a father would write a letter containing this sentence to his daughter. Of course, a father can make sentences expressing his love and longing for his daughter, who works alone away from home.

This morning, just before I woke up, I had a dream, Murat had returned from Bosnia and you were going to meet him, you would laugh together at the memories that would remind you of that innocent love you had in high school, your years in Marmaris. That you had only truly fallen in love with me once, that this person was Murat, that you were very sorry for me. You told me. (Fortunately, the effect of the dream is strong in the first minutes, but then it passes quickly) Yes, I just had a bad dream. One only wakes up from such a dream when it is over, you cannot get rid of it before, it holds you tightly. You were the first to arrive at the meeting place, you were not actually visible, I don't know why, Murat. You looked a little white and ghostly next to him. You opened your arms, but not to stretch, of course, - it's rude to stretch while eating cake! - you were ready to hug him, it was a ceremonial gesture, right after that, you came to me on the street and looked at me with disdain, your last year of university. It was one of those degrading looks you gave me in class, like the one you gave me after talking to Murat on the phone and telling him "I love you".

I don't remember what we talked about in my dream, only the first sentences remain in my mind, "Did you have fun, Gökşen?"

-"It's none of your business, after the cake we will go to the beach, in Marmaris"

These were the first two sentences, we all (you, me and Murat) arrived at the nearby station, we were standing in front of the big train schedule, you were constantly showing me the station names, meanwhile I had the opportunity to look at you a little, I looked at you without taking my eyes off in my dreams, just like I did in class during my school years. Actually Your appearance didn't matter to me, you didn't look like yourself, you were much darker, your face was fuller, (you can't be that cruel with your plump cheeks anyway). In my dream, the fabric of your outfit was chosen the same as the fabric of my jacket.

We are sitting next to each other, you push me, but not angrily like in real life, but in a friendly way (in real life, when I sat next to you in the first lesson, you would immediately change your seat and leave me alone in the queue) I was very unhappy, not because you pushed me, but because you and Murat were going to take the train to Marmaris and swim in the sea there. Then I walked away from there in despair.

When I woke up and smelled the smell of feet mixed with a strong bad breath, I told myself that it was a dream, thank God, my roommates were in the sweetest part of their morning sleep, snoring a little and winding a little, the Chemistry student on the bottom bunk slept with his socks on, as always, with a note on the end of my pillow telling me that I had to wake him up early. He left a note.

I remembered the short walk I took with you, even writing it down feels nice to me. I promised you that I would buy you a soda during the short walk I took with you, you bought plain soda and I bought fruit juice, but I don't know how it happened, we encountered a production error that left it half filled and left. What did your closest friend Anıl drink? I don't remember. When a person is sleep deprived, he remembers the past more strongly than when he is asleep. I can't stand the pain I feel when I remember the times you hurt me. Whenever I write to you, I can't sleep before or after; when I don't write, I get the chance to sleep at least for an hour, even if it's in pieces. When I don't write. I'm just tired and slow, and when I write, it's a great relief and happiness that comes after.

I beg for your mercy, fortunately there is no law prohibiting me from writing to you, at least not yet, but I don't want to think about what I will do if you get married one day. You don't fully understand what the matter is or the meaning of the hours I spent just looking at you during the lessons during my school years. Actually, I don't understand either. , I'm shaking on the verge of explosion, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind with sadness, but I don't know what this is, why I'm acting this way. Silence, darkness, I cower in my bed on the top bunk and submit to it, I can't do anything else. It's an explosion and it passes, like the fits a smoker suffers when quitting, The forces that create this writing seizure constantly shake me, before and after; my life, my existence consists of this threat, if it ends, I will end too, this seizure is my way of participating in life, it is as natural as closing my eyes. Hasn't this threat been there since the day I met you?

Will I be able to get out of this by saying, "It's over, I'll choose a suitable partner for me and be happy from now on?" You're talking about my engagements, they were very ordinary, no doubt, the pain was not ordinary, but the effect was like that. You know, you spend your life in disgrace, and suddenly it is decided that you will be punished for all this disgrace. The screws tightening your head are slow. As you slowly get bored, you say "Yes, I will continue this vile life", just like that.

If you equate what I do now with what I did before, you are right; I can always experience the same thing. The only difference is experience I can't wait for the screws to be tightened enough to force a confession, instead I start screaming as soon as they touch my temples. I can tell you all the truth about myself in a way that I can't tell anyone else. You can't be right if you talk so bitterly about me begging you not to leave me. Thanks to your look. I live.

10/05/2015

This Sunday, I wandered around the city, I was very bored, I sat on a bench next to a tree, I watched the people walking around. When I got bored, I started writing with the pen and paper in my hand. I wish our short conversations to last longer, I want to call you like someone your family knows, not like a stranger. I learned that you did not come to your family this weekend, you chose to stay in the village. Your mother answered the phone and told you that it was difficult for you to go on a trip every week, so you would come to Eskişehir every fifteen days. Additionally, she said that you were engaged and that you would spend this weekend at home eating popcorn and watching movies with your fiancée. .I don't believe what your mother said, she said she got engaged to get away from me. When I called again a few days later, I asked if she was really engaged. Your mother said she wasn't joking, I still didn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it when my classmate told me that he saw you at the bus station and that there was a young man dressed as a second lieutenant next to him. When I saw you waiting in front of a tall young man in uniform, I believed that what I was told was true. Sometimes people want to challenge the whole world, they wish that what everyone thinks is right is wrong, mine was in a similar mood. Your back was turned to your fiancée, you were in a state of waiting for someone, he was waiting for someone. I couldn't see your face, he was a young officer at the beginning of his career, you finally decided to marry a soldier like your father. Your engagement was short-lived, you got married and had a daughter, years later, on a rainy day, you were walking hand in hand with your daughter, who was half your height. You suddenly started running to avoid getting wet. Since I was coming from the opposite direction, I saw you running towards me for the first and last time in my life. You were holding your daughter's hand and running towards me. Getting wet in this spring rain didn't matter to me, so I was walking as slowly as possible. I saw you again after many years, you were old, I had a hard time recognizing you when I first came across you at the teachers' meeting. I knew that you had been working in the east for many years because your husband was a soldier, but eventually your compulsory service was over and you returned to Eskişehir. You have already burned the letters I wrote to you years ago so that your fiancée would not see them, even though they were one-sided. You don't want him to see it, do you? This is the last letter I wrote to you, which will remain with me. Years ago, during my school years, I would translate foreign books for the lessons you had difficulty understanding, and if I had enough courage, I would manage to give them to you. Some of the translations would remain with me, and this letter, just like those article translations. It will stay with me. I wish you happiness in your life with your wife and daughter.

Always loving you;

Necip.

-Do you remember the letters you wrote, Necip?" said the spiritual being. I have the right to change even if only once in my life, but I do not want to use it, this would be deceiving myself, Gökşen did not love me in real life, he will not love me from now on, I also have a family, I can look back to the past. I don't want to act like a cheating gambler. The spiritual being constantly tells me the same thing, that if an event that will affect my life happens in someone else's life, then I will have the right to change that person's life. Who could this person be? This is the same question that has been on my mind lately. The spiritual creature introduced this person to me, but what can I do with an Armenian woman named Satenik KIRKIRYAN?

I asked the spiritual being how a person who lived a hundred years ago would have an impact on my life. Saten Halfetinin was born in the village of Saylakkaya - Cibin, as it was called at that time. She was a beautiful girl. She married Alpinaryan, who was also from Cibin. From this marriage, she had a curly blond-haired blue man named Andre. They had a baby with eyes, they looked like a very happy family; however, Alpinaryan had a relationship with Abdullah, who gave his soul over to demons and evil spirits. Abdullah deceived him and had an affair with his wife Saten. When the time of travel (deportation) came, little Andre was taken to Abdullah and his wife Meryem. They entrusted him to Lebanon and set off to Lebanon, but Meryem was burning with the desire for revenge. While raising little Andre, she harassed him every day after he reached puberty. Little Andre could not find anyone to tell about his own mother's sexual harassment and sexual harassment, so she became withdrawn. Meryem eventually did what she did. She understood the mistake, she had caused an innocent child to become depressed and have identity confusion. She explained to Andre that she was actually Armenian, that her real name was not Abdullah, that her husband Abdullah was not her biological father, and that she was not her biological mother, and asked for forgiveness from young Andre. She had been trying to wash him throughout his youth. When they were alone with her goal, she played with little Andre's manhood.

Poor Andre had received practical sexuality education at a young age by a woman he knew as his own mother, but the surprises did not end there for Andre, while little Abdullah (Andre) was drinking tea in the village coffee house with an old friend of his father's Armenian convert, the old man suddenly said: took;

-" May God forgive me, son, do not be angry with me for saying this, I used to go to the village bath with your father a lot, it is up to you how much you believe what I say, my son," he said, drops of sweat accumulated on his forehead, he continued,

"While your father Abdullah and I were taking a bath, I stopped washing for a very short time and watched him. I don't know why I did this and I came to this age. Maybe God or God ordered so, your father's feet were looking at the basin, not at me. From that day on, I cut off all relations with your father, I told you this." "Forgive me for telling you," he said.

"This person, who came to the world as a Christian Armenian named Andre and bid farewell as a Muslim Turk named Abdullah, is your grandfather Andre, the son of a tennis player," said the spiritual being. The only key point in his life that affected your life was that he was raised by his parents instead of traveling to Lebanon. It is entrusted to your Turkish neighbours, I am giving you the chance to change this. If you use this right, Saten and ALp will agree to take Andre with them and leave the village, and little Andre will grow up without being harassed by Meryem, without being the son of Abdullah who sold his soul to the demons; he will live as a Christian, get married and become your father. He will come to this world; of course, you will be a Christian, not Islam, as it is now, and justice will be served, said the legend.

-Taurus Mountains-1914After our attack on Zeytun, the siege began and we resisted as much as we could. We were crammed into a small cave, but we were disciplined: the women of each freedom fighter had their own place. The soldiers' place was smaller, everyone had a certain duty, cook, barber, priest and warriors. The food was equal for everyone. It was important to disperse them. However, we were crowded in a narrow place. As time went by, patience was running out and the soldiers began to become angry. At first, we waited for support forces from the eastern Anatolia side, with their help we could break the siege and escape. We hoped that the Dashnak gangs there would not leave us alone. Waiting was wearing us out and at night. We were starting to get cold. It was difficult to get out of the cave at night, we started to get closer and closer to the fire. The Sultan's army was hoping that our supplies would run out and we would surrender willingly. Last night, the sleet was turning into snow with the wind. A well-shaped path was so narrow and winding that we could easily protect this path. This is the enemy. He could not climb the hill. He was being pushed back one by one before any forces could form a group to attack.

We took possession of the mountain and at first we did not take the siege seriously. There were people traveling around the mountain and carrying news past the enemy lines. Sometimes I would dress like an old shepherd and pass through the enemy soldiers. I was trying to get eggs, vegetables and bread from the town. It took a lot of time and expense to feed four hundred people. I was the enemy. I was one of the few messengers who made eye contact with the soldiers, even from a distance. At night, we all worked as a group to help carry the filled baskets up the steep face of the mountain. We did this in excited silence, afraid that we would be seen. Our morale was still high.

While the Turks were waiting, they would set traps and catch rabbits and sometimes deer. Similarly, we were shooting wild boars. Thank God the enemy was not eating pigs!

Now food was scarce and we were eating roots and seeds as if we were purified. Boredom was terrible. Confinement led to fights among ourselves: a game of dice or chess could instantly turn into shouting or fistfights, even going so far as to draw guns or knives. Then the others would separate those who were fighting because We couldn't handle fighting within ourselves. After a while, we started fighting because we didn't receive support. All our calls were inconclusive.

One day, I saw a group carrying supplies up the mountain. As usual, a crowd had gathered at the entrance, some had gone halfway down to greet the visitors. Life was so boring!

To welcome the visitors, I came out of the cave and watched those struggling on the path. One of the visitors looked familiar to me. My heart suddenly staggered. I recognized him immediately. His head was bowed and his body was covered with a heavy woolen coat, necessary for the winter. He was carrying a package on his back. .He was moving slowly upwards. As he stopped to take a breath and measure the distance to climb, perhaps he would glance upwards. Perhaps he would raise his hand to his head to protect his eyes or adjust his scarf. I didn't know how people recognized each other when their faces were not clearly visible. But we could do this. .It was like everyone was sending a sign or embracing a color that identified as mine. I recognized him immediately with a simple glance from among the pine trees.

I moved backwards, looking between the heads of others in the crowd. I greeted him with a kiss and ran down the mountain to get his package. I moved towards the back of the crowd.

-"How are you, Saten, how have you been since we haven't seen each other?"

-"I am good"

We looked like dogs with thin legs, sniffing the air, cautious, thin tails, combed hair, not growling, and making jokes before making love.

-"I came to see you again," said Saten.

-"I tried to act like I didn't see you when I passed by, but I realized that I missed you"

He stopped for a moment and turned his gaze forward.

-"I realized that I love you, and I'm also curious about you."

I watched her hands tremble in her lap. Her eyes watched the heavy stormy clouds and drifted down to the spreading greenery below, bending to the ground with horses wandering in the greenery with white and brown tents and enemy soldiers looking like little ants.

-"I risked my life for you, but I'm with you too, freedom is worth fighting for, I came to show my support, because in the end I had to take responsibility and fight too. I'm talking about fighting for our way, for our way of life, for Armenia. If I'm not a coward, I won't own it either." There's a case to be made"

The next night, we woke up with the warning voice of the guards, we all left the cave in surprise, in the dark with the moonlight, under the guidance of a treacherous Armenian, the Turks had achieved the unexpected. They had started to overcome those steep and steep rocks, they were trying to move forward by crawling on their hands. Who could have thought that they could do this and get out of this terrible abyss?

I will do this during the dayThey could not have white courage, the night had been beneficial to them because they could not see the terrible abyss below, there were only a few of our pioneer guards left, if they were still alive!

The path leading to our cave passed through the cliff. At one point, this path was too narrow for two men to walk side by side. This meant that one of the Turkish soldiers could hold the path. One of our men could not hold on to the edge of the cliff and fell. After a flight to his death, I wonder whether he breathed his last breath in the air or when he hit the ground. At that moment, I was thinking about whether he gave it away because of the bone fragments that shattered his heart. Fear surrounded us all like a dark smoke, I even forgot about satin. We were waiting desperately in the cave. The sound of the war and the gunshots in the lower parts of the cliff seemed to remind us of the last moments of our lives. For a while, there was silence. It happened. And then gunshots were heard again. We prayed for our soldiers waiting at the far end. They were injured or had fallen off the cliff - who knows? Others had reached the cave quickly, fearing for their lives, and informed us of the situation. What if God wanted us to be defeated? The legend goes around the wounded, healing their hands. He was praying by putting it on top of himself. We were literally trapped in the cave. The days when we could walk around on top of the mountain were over. We were now locked inside and this situation was very dangerous. Before, we had to go down the steep slope under the moonlight - through the secret path that belonged only to us - or down below to get information from the enemy camps. We were able to take messages to our men in the extreme regions by passing through the tunnel opening into the cave. The Turks had set up catapults below and we could not breathe anymore.

-"I heard there was a treasure." Saten's voice was lost in the darkness of the cave. The gas lamp was emitting a light the size of a thumb, and the extinguishing fire was giving off a reddish light.

"Yes, that's true," I said.

We were too scared to flirt or even care who loved whom.

-"The legend told me years ago that you and I were found in a cave in this area," said Saten.

-"This region is full of caves, but rest assured, the treasure is in the safest place. Tonight, we will take the treasure out with Legend, and we will have three guards with us."

Satin was trying to digest the news he received.

-"Is there no support force? Can you do this without the support of the Dashnaks?"

-"It's not far from our current location," I said, trying to convince him.

-"Who knows there?"

-"The cave? Just me and the legend."

-"What's in the treasure?"

said Saten. The fever had subsided so much that I could no longer see his face.

-"The treasure was in sacks. Besides the manuscripts of the holy books, there were gold and silver bars, money bags, some antique artifacts, title deeds and a priceless holy relic, the HOLY GRAIL."

-"what's that ?

-"The bowl from which Jesus drank wine at the last supper."

Saten first took a deep breath and then whistled.

-"Did you see her?"

"Yes, only once so far, it was a heavy, long silver bowl. Ornate stems curved like ears on both sides. There were scenes from the Bible on its base. In one scene, there was the creation of Adam and in the other, his expulsion from the garden. The scene that caught my attention the most was the crucifixion of our Almighty Lord." There were three women suffering while being crucified. I think this cup must have come from modern times, contrary to what the Purified say, I think Jesus was made from a pot made of earth or ox horn or pewter like ordinary people, not a silver cup covered with scenes from the Bible including his own crucifixion. He must have drank from a cup. It was wrapped in purple silk.

-"Continue," said Saten.

It was obvious that he was curious.

-"What happened then?"

He came a little closer and revived the fire. A single tongue came out, blue and yellow, then another spark; the fire was tasting the wood, licking and eating the dry and dead food.

The moment I had been waiting for for a long time had come. We were five people. Legend, me and three guards gathered at the western exit. A nice sleet was falling. We had to be careful not to wake the Turks before leaving the cave. Satin kissed me on the cheek. One of the guards, nicknamed Priest, blessed us. Our friends were praying, lightly. I shuddered and then put on my woolen cloak. The priest said to each of us, God be with you. He touched my wrist the way a man gives peace to a woman, and we turned and set off, walking in single file. I took them to my cave and buried the treasure there.

It had taken longer than I thought to carry the heavy sacks into the cave. We had to hide the next day. The next night we made our way through enemy lines in the dark, staying as far away from tents and horses as possible. We moved carefully through the no man's land between the enemy lines and the groves at the foot of the mountain. The shadow of the moonlight was fading on the shadows. .We went straight up the mountain. When we arrived, we were exhausted. The guards who came with us, instead of turning back, were going to head west and ask for help.

After that, I was tired and sad. It had been a difficult journey and I had a hard time coming back. The gunshots were torturing me. I didn't want to talk to anyone for days.

By human natureIf you think you won't make it to the next day, something happens that makes you lose what you have, and then you look back at the events that once seemed unbearable to you, and in the light of your now worsening fate, you see that those moments in the past that you thought were bad times were heaven. We waited. We waited, doing nothing. We waited for the support forces to arrive. Some days we were sitting in the pale and weak warmth of the sunlight leaking into the cave, the stalactites were melting, some days it was too cold to sit outside, it didn't matter what season it was, we were at a very high altitude and the temperature was decreasing as we rose. We were pacing, bowing our heads against the bitter wind. We walked, lost in melancholy. We felt crippled with fear and suffering.

We were helping each other, keeping each other in order, and sometimes telling stories to keep our spirits high. The legend told us about reinforcements that would arrive very soon. It also told us that the holy spirit would come to help us. However, the stories of the legend did not change our lives. One of the guards got sick. His mouth was crooked, and His tongue had turned into a huge lump in his throat. In the following days, the rangers who had gone west returned. As we were climbing the dangerous slope behind the cave, we heard a noise and ran to meet him. Two guards were climbing the mountain behind him. We were looking at them in amazement. The Turks were gone!

After leaving the treasure in the Taurus Mountains, we set out on our way back. Legend and the other groups would continue to stay in the cave. We started the journey together with the Armenians of Eastern Anatolia. I wanted to get married when I returned to the village. I realized that I could not stay apart from Saten any longer. Establishing a home seems difficult and scary to me. , I do not feel safe in these lands, it is said that we will be taken on a compulsory journey starting from July, if we are lucky, we can be train passengers, crossing Syria on foot means leaving the elderly to die in this season, however, the way to not leave our home is to accept Islam, in medieval Spain, Jews and Muslims were exiled to Africa, and the only way to escape exile was to become a Christian. Maybe it would be best for both of us to start a new life in a new country. It became clearer day by day that we could not live in the Ottoman state. This was the end of our journey, which continued with fear for days and nights. I feel the days coming. I can smell the Euphrates. I miss my village, I miss the fig and pistachio trees, I also miss the grand plane tree in front of the village coffee house where I sit in the cool shade and sip my coffee. Some nights I think about Abdullah, I miss being with him.

Even though my desire to be with her increases, marrying Saten excites me.

Cibin-1914