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As usual, the painter walked slowly along the Badger River, he liked the view of this place where his working life continued non-stop. From time to time, he sat on one of the tapes and painted the body of a working man at a strange angle. He tried to draw a short path by applying the art of shortening. The shouts of the people around and the noise of the cars were always in the same monotony. The chattering voices hitting the shore did not disturb him. A week had passed since their conversation. The teacher had not been able to keep his promise to his friend to finish the portrait of the Virgin Mary that I was going to paint for the altar. Maybe his artistic life was so intense and active that it prevented him from examining himself, when he encountered the work of the young master. The moment had changed, the past and the future were cracked like an empty mirror containing only darkness and shadows. While climbing, at the last step, the one who looked up and looked up, first felt the desire to take another step with great courage, but then immediately felt intense anxiety about the possibility of choosing the wrong path and finally moved forward with his foot. And show him something worse than being the lover of a life that cannot find itself easily. He found a few women. These were selling their faces and bodies as models for a few hours. Women whose faces were illuminated with their naivety and young girls who were unaware of anything. Only when they approached and stood behind the canvas and the painter could strike the first blow. When he took the brush, he felt that these women were human; he saw in some women a comfort; in others he saw a fiercely controlled ambition for the sake of the Lover; he sensed the space between the little living and young spaces of the prostitutes; he was frightened by the random harsh steps or the desire-filled movement of the hips; he suddenly saw the world and the environment he was in. He began to find it extremely boring, surrounded by the bodies of women who were ignorant of the enchanting pristineness and the Awe that comes from entrusting oneself without thinking to the image of another world. He thought that the end of divinity was coming. He was ashamed to open the albums containing his works, because he had a feeling that he wanted to kill vulgar people in the name of the martyrs given in the name of Jesus Christ. Or he was saying that his relationship with this world was over and that he was a sinner because he chose beautiful women as his servants. This feeling was increasing day by day, he was being crushed under its weight, he remembers sinking it into the black soil. If he could grow yellow crops and raise children for himself, it would be better than poking around with his hard fingers in the secrets and miracles that have nothing to do with him. He was asking if it would happen, his whole life seemed to be collapsing, I tasted it in an hour, a brief enlightenment, now I washed away his dreams, the pain and happiness of waking times caused him to be stabbed by the picture and to rise to the top. Now even in his prayers to the Virgin Mary, it was impossible for him to remember anything other than the image in that picture, let alone the fascination of her figure in the work. She had a beauty that was different from all the women he had ever seen in his life. She was in the light of a feminine beauty that was in harmony with none of them. She was in the light. Speaking about the complex darkness of his memory, all the female paintings he loved were wrapped in their extraordinary case. When he tried to draw a Virgin Mary, his fingers were not working at all. The task of transferring what his fingers saw to the painting seemed to be left with a solution in the face of the clearly visible image projected on a fixed wall in his life. Reality did not show him a section of his own existence. You inflame the pain in his heart of those who are on the line of the Antichrist, I cannot bring the truth and the most beautiful to that reality. He kept asking himself, was it right for him to still call himself an artist after experiencing such an event? Otherwise, should he call himself a craftsman who can barely paint by matching colors with each other like a laborer whose job is to line up stones side by side? The thoughts that torture him so much never leave him alone, even an empty toilet. He was forced to leave the room where they were following him. Even though he wanted to confess this situation to the merchant many times, this man, who was as religious as he was with a delicate soul, could never fully understand himself, and on the contrary, he could not start a work that would have received applause from many masters and apprentices at any other time. He was afraid that he would think it was an incompetent excuse rather than his weakness. As a result, he spent all day wandering the streets. Each time, either as a result of lust or a miracle, he was secretly afraid when the cat pulled him out of his uncertain dreams in front of you. It was as if it were a divine dream guiding him, he thought that maybe if he found a mistake in the painting, it might be this spell that caused him trouble, but whenever he started looking at the painting, he realized that craft and artHe left his mind with all the measurements, in admiration and jealousy. He felt like Wings Taking Off to go to different worlds where he could enjoy himself with a peaceful and bright soul. Every time he left the church, he found himself in his own efforts again. Then he felt the need to go there twice as much. He wandered around the illuminated streets and was bullied one afternoon. He felt the anxiety that was making him lessen in the spring. Even though it did not contain the warmth, the warm breezes that carried the light of the spring days with the approaching flower started to blow. For the first time, the dark dull shadows left on the earth from the curtain seemed to be dispersing, and it was as if the teacher felt in his heart that God would please, just like the miracle of Nativity heralds to himself with banal signs. Mahmut was licking the sun on all the rooftops and the streets with its light. Lovers walking slowly, hand in hand, eye to eye and lip to lip. Light was running around. Women's miniskirts rising mischievously into the air in the blowing wind. Their sexy panties were visible from under their clothes. The sounds of their children singing and circling on the pavement were echoing, which was usually dark but now. If he said it was a light on the streets followed by the joyful marchers, it was flickering brightly. It was hiding its face among the roofs turned towards the sun. Because the roofs were black, like two old women gossiping non-stop, and in such a way, they were very close to each other. The lights caught each other during the enthusiastic dance of the children and passed from place to place. He was jumping from window to window as if his hands were shining while jumping. There were also places where he remained fixed and serene, like an eye caught in the first darkness of the evening. Because down in the street below, the darkness that had been hiding under the occasional women for years was sleeping without moving at all, and the regulars of that place were always carrying the joylessness and sadness of twilight with their eyes. They were playing on the crooked pavements with the joy caused by the thin blue stripe appearing between the pure roofs with their thin clothes and the golden shining smile spreading around the sun with confidence and the spring never leaving did not prevent them from being led astray and to you, teacher Vay Anderson walked without paying attention to tiredness, as if the wood had a share in this joy. Every ordinary light of the sun was like an arm of God in nature. The erasure of sadness on his face caused the curious looks of the playing children. They raised their heads from their games and said hello. He walked without even thinking about where he would go and where he would stand. Because like the old and crackling branches, the flowers of the trees clinging to the gourd, he rebelled and prided himself. If he approves of the reflection of men towards the Light, which gives strength to a brand new, the brand new Spring energy forces his body. That energy came from the hot nights and sincere feelings he lived with the wonder, the steps he took were light and full of joy, like a young boy's, I didn't care if the road took hours, he felt more and more full of life. He was traveling long distances at a pleasant pace, suddenly he stopped, he closed his eyes with his hand, like someone who has been damaged either by a noticeable light or by the impact of a terrible event. When he raised his head, all the light of the sun reflected from the top of a window entered his eyes with pain, but a lost image, that purple and gold A fascinating oil painting appeared right above a purple curtain that had been erased from the colorful sound. The Virgin Mary, born from the young master's depiction, was leaning back with her beach indistinctly. It was just like in that picture. Her hair stood on end. It was frightening her to experience a terrible disappointment. She dreamed in a dark dream that the Virgin Mary would die. It was not, and the joy of seeing it in daylight was combined with his drunkenness. It was a miracle that happened to many people, but only a few could understand what it really was. He did not have the courage to direct his eyes to that image once again, because he did not have the strength to call upon the weight of the sad final judgment that was constantly floating downwards. His real fear was a A one-second image could shatter his entire life in a much more brutal way than the death his timid, courageless heart had inflicted on him. When his heart beat slower and more violently, when he no longer felt the painful hammer blows in his throat, he gathered all his courage and slowly pulled it from his eyes to his trembling hands. He looked towards the Window that he saw that was so fascinating, he was wrong the most. This was not the young girl in the well-known painting of the Virgin Mary, but her hand standing above did not drop down due to lack of courage, she thought what she saw was a miracle, it was much sweeter, softer and more ephemeral than a divine image that appeared at the time when miracles took place, and that street with the young girl who was hanging down from the admiring railing of the window, absorbed in thoughts. There was a very faint resemblance between the picture. The black domes were also covering his face, and he was shining like a check in response to his mystical and extraordinary beauty. He hid the Zira very well.He was sharp, almost angry, and his lips showed a sad and stubborn anger that could not be relieved even by the feeling of blue around him and the lost looks in his pensive eyes saying "Rise like Twilight". In this barely controlled mischief, a childish aspect and a deeply believed pain from the past were reflected together. Kim He knows, maybe his grandmother missed him, she moved to England after she got married and settled there and was studying at the university. He used it as a means to get to England. Here, it was wonderful, it was wonderful, he was going back and forth between the sea, I couldn't forget the hot lovemaking he had with the wonderful, his silence was sudden and angry, even there I could feel it. There is no thought that he will pay for the drapery of his extraordinary work, a situation like me, the painter teacher, the deepest young woman on her face. If it flows into a sharp expression, this child too has seen the effects of women who follow their dreams and cling to their desires that grow with their longing and die when they are forced to separate from them. What was more surprising than the strangeness and difference on her face was the fascinating play of prayer, which reflected the sun's light around the girl's surroundings with a divine power on the glass of the window behind her, gathered it in its waves, and made these sermons shine like jet black steel. What she was sure of was that the work of God, who guided her to complete this work of play, was right on the street at that moment. A car hit the painter teacher, who was standing in the middle of the street with his sparse clothes, shouting, "For God's sake, be careful." Even though the painter teacher was not disturbed by the man's immoral speech, he broke down in fear for a moment. I didn't feel like talking next to a man with sloppy clothes. He dully asked questions about the girl. My daughter studied at the university. I don't know if he asked if he read it, but they say that, it doesn't concern me, I have never wondered before and I won't do it from now on, if you want to know, you can ask the master himself. He knows better than me. He pointed with his hand. A master cafe owner came from numerous cafes on the banks of the Porsuk stream. The owner is there. Students are retired soldiers, working soldiers are teachers, bankers. He was playing Backgammon on small tables under the sunlight, and some were playing Okey on big tables. They rarely went out, where life and chaos continued non-stop. This man was now the owner of one of the cafes. Duman was now the owner of one of the cafes. His imposing body was chubby, but with his smiling face. He was standing at the doorstep as if inviting people in. The name of the cafe was Titanic. Actually, there were 4 of these cafes. It was one of the places popular with students. The painter teacher walked towards the man without any hesitation. They went to the cafe together. The main teacher felt a little uncomfortable and excited. He went to the dirty wooden table in the corner. When the tea he ordered was brought by the master, he asked him if he would sit opposite him for a short time. He said his request in a tone close to a whisper in order not to attract the attention of the 4 students who were playing games by shouting at the next table. He talked about the miracle I experienced with words that did not care much, but were expressed with excitement inside. Well, finally, the person who listened to him with astonishment and apparently tried to understand his words with the slow understanding capacity caused by my tea. He asked the man to let him use it as a winning model for the depiction of the Virgin Mary. So he added that it also meant that he would have a share in a religious work and offered time and money for his service. The tavern keeper hesitated, but he was constantly probing the holes of the wide bulge with his finger. Finally, he started talking, don't you dare me. Don't think he is a bad guy. But this job is not as easy as you think. Because if I were the real father and I had known to tell my child to go and do what I told him, believe me, our bargain would have been over long ago, but this child is a completely different matter. What is going on for God's sake? He stood up there with great anger and during the conversation, he did not like to be disturbed at all. On the other hand, a man from a table started shouting by wildly banging his glass on the table he was sitting on. Because allegations of cheating during the Okey game were flying in the air, the cafe owner grabbed the glass with you, swearing vaguely, took the man's tea and another glass, placed them on his guest's table, and filled 2 glasses to the brim. He drank his own glass in one go, took a break, wiped his shapeless mustache as if he had come to his senses, and started talking. Let me tell you where I saw this girl. I was a soldier before. Believe me, military service is a bad profession. I fought against terrorists in the Southeast. It was never worse than today and then. My patience has run out too. My hometown. I wanted to return to Eskişehir and have an honorable profession. Because my financial savings had decreased, the money I had earned had dried up. I thought I would earn money in this student city, with the desire to make a share for myself. A few people stood on the streets and tried to attack the man and the child. The play fight was getting heated in the cafe.The owner got angry and threw him out to all of them, including the painter teachers. He felt strange. This kind behavior gave him a Joyful Confidence. However, this cafe was becoming dim in the brighter light of the owner. He never wanted to commit the sin of pitting himself against his own dreams by glorifying obscene and wild humanity. It would cause him to be guided by the signs of hidden and obvious miracles. The thought of where to get his inspiration was affecting him. The cafe owner threw himself into his teaspoon again, as if a gloomy person had ground it from the sound club with screams rising from his black body. While he was looking for help with his little hands while waiting on his head, the face of the girl holding on to the door pillars was revealed. The cafe owner's rude invitation to him inside only made his cowardly shadow retreat further into the depths of the stairs, but as you can see, the painter teacher was already next to him, he held her winning hands with his big wrinkled but soft hands and He pulled him towards himself and asked the girl, pouring his eyes at her. Would you sit next to me for a minute? The word was astonished. The softness was an end. It was completely out of love and such a deep voice speaking to her from the darkness of the tavern. He felt a sweet country mass like those who were in need and one day met that compassion with astonishment. When he looked at this active hair, his father who died suddenly came to his mind. The lives from the past came to his throat, throwing all the lives in his veins for you. He didn't say a word to the painter teacher because he was making his chest bang. And he shook your head, he made this movement clearly and suddenly, as if he was angry. He always followed the painter teacher willingly and sat on the bench. The painter teachers turned from him mercifully without saying a word. Suddenly, in front of the eyes of the head owner, this little one was between the tragedy of loneliness and honorable alienation. The war had begun before its time. Deep down, he wanted the girl to come closer to him and leave a sacred soothing kiss on her cheek. Just like he kissed the wonder. Just like he kissed the sea. But he was ashamed of frightening her and of those who showed this strange interior to each other with mockery. He understands this child, not even a word. He has great compassion for her. However, underneath this stubbornness, he was angry and knew the sudden pain. My daughter asked, "Can I know your name?" There was trust in his gaze, but these events seemed strange to him, as question marks went to the ground in his head. Because of his shyness, he answered gently with a single voice and almost turning around. Emine answered the old man. He felt the other person's confidence in him, he just didn't have the courage to show it, he was gentle and then continued his speech, I am a painter teacher, my name is Emine and to paint your picture, I am actually a citizen of England, I came to Turkey as a temporary officer to work as a teacher, you know, student exchange between countries. There are exchange programs between teachers as well as programs. If you accept, you will also witness beautiful things in life with me. Maybe we can chat like two friends from time to time. I will only take 2 hours of your time every day. Are you willing to do this? Emine turned red. She doesn't know what to answer. He found himself in a Life with darknesses that he could not get out of. He eventually looked at the curious cafe owner standing next to him with an expression full of uncomfortable questions. "Your father is happy to give permission," he said. "The painter is from the teacher. The decision is entirely yours. Because I don't want to force you, I don't have the authority to do it anyway. What do you say, do you want this job, Emine?" He said, directing his sunburned hand to her hand in an invitation form. The girl stood there for a moment, then, with a shy attitude, she squeezed the painter's hand with her thin hand to show that she accepted it without saying a word. The moment the painter teacher andersoneli entered the door with his daughter's hand and imprisoned her like a mouse, then left the cafe with a reassuring look. The owner couldn't believe his eyes when he saw all the bargaining, knife by knife, and he gathered a few students to show off this strangeness, but the girl, feeling that she was the center of attention, suddenly stood up and quickly ran out. Everyone was watching behind her with their mouths open. Wow, the owner of the cage said, 'Wow! I didn't even think that he would accept it. Then he went to another cup of tea, thinking that it would be enough for himself. After putting a certain amount of money on the table, the painter teachers, who were making themselves comfortable in this cafe, went over all the details with the cafe owner. Thank you to the man. He shook his hand. potatoWhen he went out to the street, I saw that the sun was about to set and the air was turning a dappled pink with sirens. It was an uneasy evening. As I was slowly walking towards his house, the cafe owner was astonished for a month. Things as strange as a dream were going through his heart. It was filled with peace. Okay, that's enough.

Then the empty wall was still looking at teacher Anderson from the painter's table, but the painter was like a teacher, he did not feel helpless and unhappy, the feeling of trust based on a peaceful power was dominant. Because Şerife was here to death, he was with him, even though he was full of righteous question marks and a little cowardly, Emine turned into an obedient girl. Şerife was living in the Çifteler district of Eskişehir. She had to come to Eskişehir for the picture. And it was a journey of about an hour and a half. That's why she got tired there. Her family seemed to be a member of a last-minute party. In the upcoming elections, if the left-wing and the party won, her father would get a job in the municipality. I think it is obvious in Turkey. As a working English teacher, of course, he could not tolerate right-wing parties. For this reason, when Şerife and the painter teacher came to his house, there was a closeness between people, a closeness based on political views. Emine Şerife. Apparently, the light emitted by the sincere attitude he saw from the painter was brightening the souls of even cowards, as if two old friends. There were long conversations that lasted for days, as if they had met again after many years. Soon, these two people were connected to each other by an invisible need. The teachers told Emine Şerife that she was married, her husband was in England, but that she wanted to separate, and said that this was a marriage of convenience or a marriage of convenience. He told how he had to get married. He said that Deniz was blackmailing him and that she could send him to prison for being with a child under the age of 18. That's why I had to get married, Emine. And now he was going to file for divorce. On the one hand, they are two very different people, but on the other hand, the feelings of both of them were pure and full of a soul. A man with experience who has become humble after a long time, who claims that there is only clarity and tranquility in the most intense corners. The other is a young man who spends his time dreamily diving far away from his bed, embracing life from his bed, as if he had not dispersed in the midst of darkness, and reflecting deeply with a commanding glow that has sincerely welcomed and introduced the first light from the Sun. She was angry, she dyed her hair the color of the sun, she was going to eat my eyes, she was even weirder when she saw her, her mouth was huge. But sometimes, when she put on make-up, she looked like a very different girl, especially from the main teacher. It was difficult for the teacher to recognize her. The teacher, on the other hand, was both alone in the explosion. What happened when they got closer? They were also walking on a weak and already damaged wall, the distance between societies and beliefs, differences in religion, the education given to them to have certain feelings for each other and to approach each other with dignity. According to the Turks, the enemy had also occupied Istanbul, the most beautiful things of Turkey, in the War of Independence and These new generations were constantly being told about this state and its negativity. If it weren't for these facts hidden in her subconscious, Emine Şerife would already be thrown into the man's arms with the pressure of her love for Şerife, which is late and her real love, her excitements that she keeps like a secret and her hopes for the future. With his looks and his silence, that pride reveals the great patterns of his soul. There is darkness at the moment when the contents inside want to throw it out with anger. He was suppressing this blower with all his strength, like a hand reaching out of nowhere. Moreover, whenever the painter teacher Anderson passed by a Muslim throughout his life, it was clear that he felt alienation, even if he did not feel hatred. Full of strangers He lived in a culture. And frankly, it could not be said that he was successful in his missionary activities. Muslims did not believe that God would adopt a son. According to them, Jesus was just a prophet. They believed in the teachings of Jesus. He was preventing her from starting the painting. He was hoping that he was given the task of converting her to the true faith. He was hoping that the miracle would not be under his influence. He would be the one who created the miracle. He was preparing for the woman's gaze to reflect a deep longing for Vesa. The Virgin Mary, who was also waiting for her resurrection, must have felt the same longing. Yes, Emine Şerife. He had to invite her to his religion. He wanted to instill faith in the animal in order to be able to learn about it. In a garden where the possibility of these good news coming true, as well as his rank, combined with an exciting confidence, he wanted to instill faith in the animal. He was thinking of adding a natural landscape containing the First Spring around himself. He was thinking of adding the sweet Spring season to the sky with invisible strings.