Prologue II

Purple bunches climb to the skies delicately in the streets of İstanbul. They surround the veteran mouldings silently in order to look like the native of the city clearly. A loving hejaz dangles from those mouldings throughout the streets.

  • 14.11.2016
  • Berkin Şafak Şener

"Whom I was a victim of her hazel eyes

I couldn’t take my eyes off your face

She came to the universe as an example, they say

I couldn’t count your moles being spots on your face"

Hejaz is the love of one usta or the master of the love. It reaches out from the hearts to the cities by weaving stitch by stitch. The ivies of the city can live humanely as long as the tearful pavements are moaning, the copper is beaten with the hands of one usta, the breath is blown to the glass, the stone is proceeded patiently, the lace is knitted throughout the lifetime.

People shouldn’t expect too much from the life… A chilly evening of June…That’s what’s gonna happen. A rosebud is…what’s gonna blossom. A little martlet is what’s gonna settle. And a breath of life is what’s gonna live.

Then "the life, you say, is slipping by, people should live their life masterly; that’s because you can say 'I lived'".

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Prologue III

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What relieves human beings after all turmoil? Either ecstatic laughter of sea gulls, or strokes of hammers into copper pieces firmly. Just eyes see crowded bazaars, a craftsman just makes the first sale of the day, pathways are just paced without tiring, and then human misses the peace.

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