I came to Istanbul, the place where my childhood met the sea.
05/12/21
02:16
Years ago, we moved to the last stop. It was a one-room flat. Poverty had shrunk our bodies.
The last stop was on a very high hill. Here, time had stopped after the 1980 coup. Revolutionary writings on the walls, banned expressions, and controversial songs. Interestingly, armored vehicles would pass by at night.
We were so high up that we lived among the clouds. The houses across the way were invisible in the mist. We were nearer to the stars. But our swings were broken and in disrepair. Even while among the clouds, we couldn’t imagine touching the sky.
Just like a child who starts speaking late but grows to be talkative, our dreams too had become endlessly chatty. We started dreaming incessantly.
We were the children of the neighborhood where swings were broken.
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