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“I, said him, have turned my back to God, to morality, to my family, to my gender, to money and to the various types of the authority. Today – at this moment- I can see myself very vividly. Look! I’m shinning.”

When we wake up it was past eleven and I’m stranging in the bed. I throwing a glance at my phone in order to hide my boredness. I have been listening to this lie for one and half hours. I can’t tell this lunatic standing in front of the mirror not obvious who he is speaking with me or himself at this hour of the afternoon, to turn the lights off of the foyer. I’m making up a short poem in my mind;

“Beautiful, you’re not shinning; it’s only the reflection of the sensitivity of your white skin, the reflection of the mirror and you leaving the lights of the pulps on which we got as energy saves.

She seemed to have suited this situation to herself and swaying side to side in front of the mirror. “Society, says she, was taken me capture once upon a time. And you didn’t tell me anything.” The boots she was wearing making horrible noice on the marley surface of the floor and rubber, caoutchouc, petrol… She has wound a khaki cloth several times around her arm. It’s bound that she will combine her soldier trousers with my leather jacket. As seen from outside one might think of her as idealist but ignorant. As decisive as she might be, she isn’t pure and she’s mostly romantic. No matter what, Ican’t get angry with her as far beyond creating tons of lies, she’s looking for the one that fits her better. That still makes her innocent in my eye. A couple of months ago, she told me that we lived in a hunter-gatherer era and she added ” why should I bother myself with so many opportunities to prove myself. I call you a stereotype. It’s like a dress; I can a socialist tomorrow and a clubber the other day, at work I’m a perfect white-collar but you know it’s hard to seem like a opponent. I mean you should choose right books sometimes and you shouldn’t appear everywhere.”

“Turn the lights off” I say. As if she isn’t aware she’s turning her eyes up and she says “okay” but she didn’t. To annoy her a bit, I’m asking to her where she was the night before. It’s a question that her father asked her the other night on the phone, and she makkes as if to seize a fine humour in it, she says ” at Aylin’s of course”. I say ” well done” I’m asking the question myself that I couldn’t ask her in two hours as she wouldn’t answer while I’m turning the keys to open the door; where are you going?

By Mehmet Başıbüyük

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