I was awakened to a rigid loneliness. My hands were sweaty, my fingertips were aching.
It was a dream of a few seconds. The world shrank as it shrank, and we had sat in the same city, in the same place, on the same table again. It was a pure and glorious meeting as a tree’s leaf opening, the likeness of water drops and the transformation of a caterpillar into a silkworm.
“There’s a lot to talk about!” I said. The weight of the whites of my hair was crushing my shoulders. I wasn’t able to hold her hand and also couldn’t move my fingertips over her face. Tired lines… They were wandering on my face.
“There’s a lot to talk about!” she responded. Disappointment of the women who have lost their children was on her hair; and on her face, there was the resentment of orphans. Pigeons had nestled in her palms and she put her hands on the table motionless. She was afraid of scaring and missing the birds. The news of sadness was being read on her fingers.
The silence was growing…
The earth had slowed down its rotation. The time stopped and stared on us.
The silence was getting darker…
In Africa, a lion -which was about to catch its prey- had given up chasing and the gazelle had stopped running away. For the first time a murderer’s hands were shaking. His finger is about to crush the trigger. At that moment, the hunter and the prey, the killer and the victim were looking at each other and also they were listening us carefully.
The silence was turning into darkness…
A young girl who bored with her parents’ quarrels had taken on a few pieces of goods in her suitcase; and she was about to go after a man who will ruin her life. When she reached out to open the door, she began to watch our table as a final move. She was waiting for a little hope word.
As we were leaving two tired and offended smile on the table, the world began to turn rapidly. The hour-hand and hand-minute started racing each others. The lion overthrew its prey with its paws. The murderer touched the trigger. The young girl got out of the door. Nothing would ever be the same again.
While I’m getting out of my bed, I’m uneasy as a hermit who assumed the whole sins of all humans. I’m taking the night near me and starting to walk around the street. Maybe I’m going for a night walk that the sun won’t rise on me.
The darkness is holding my hands.
Translated by Samet Çıldan