I wanted to start with the first paragraph (for some reason) of a story I wrote years ago. Of course, the goal was not just to write, but to have it published somewhere and to be read by many people. But I couldn’t do it because of the rush of life. Sometimes I ask myself, “Why didn’t I do it?” People always choose one of the paths that come before them, but they imagine where the other paths lead with sentences starting with “if.” This is one of my “if”s…

“After turning back to look at the years that passed aimlessly, I find nothing in my hands but timeless drifts and unnecessary ruins. This silence needed to be broken in the night, leaving remnants of my escaping sleep. The sound of engines from passing cars, and even laughter from the neighboring balcony that couldn’t penetrate me, couldn’t break the silence of the night. Wasn’t it always like this, as written, as drawn, that a person’s loneliness was singular when alone? While pondering the past, I decided that what happened in the last year was contrary to today. Time, people, events, whatever it may be, always pointed to this moment. Today was the day when hopes and arranged lives ended, despite yesterday. It was the day when the remnants of life were gathered, and it was seen that the accounts did not balance out. Leaning back, I closed my eyes. To calm down a bit, to forget and to be forgotten. When I close my eyes, everything will end, and I will continue from yesterday to today.”