I stopped for a moment. I am very sorry, Alberto. I have never wanted to break your heart. I used to be in love with you. Now? I want to walk away. I lit up a cigar. It is easier not to think of you and past, now. Quite a few things, actually; we were in Milano, we were walking on wet pavements with the smell of renaissance with italian language at a rainy night. I can’t stop regretting myself, I had loved you long enough, I refuse to feel guilty, love is love, it had started in Milano and ended in Istanbul, long distances to be a lover, you were feeling as same as me, we had been lovers before we moved to one life, now do you think the big love really ended?, I am too scared to hear the answer, I don’t like the facts , I am for dreams and imaginations, behind the cigar smoke in rain I am the woman to leave not to be left, I wanna go first, I must move before time this time, I have always been late in life, this must be the first time that I have ever made a move before time and the player, to be honest I am in rush to break up, before, before you…I found someone else, to be loved more and longer , the king of endless love, we have been near the end of our story and I think that you are thinking as me, we used to make long and strong sentences with future and love, we have been talking only about the moment for nights, stories, songs, plots, poems…They are about to over. Before all the pages finish, I must shut the door with a song playing at home, we both love reading Camus, we are enjyoing deeply listening to jazz, but maybe you won’t any more…You may be bored by my words, more possibilities to be left, more fears , more doubts…The conversation might last for more rainy walkings with doubtful pauses, very curious steps, never certain plans, mostly probable secrets, I can’t stand to be in a blue funk, you are impossible for me to love more, I’m hoping we’ll do well , instead of being with you mistrustingly, I prefer to be in trustworthy loneliness… I walked down the street, sat down on a pavement, lit up another cigar, thought of you and stood up without you… I walked home alone…

Alberto
Hülya Uçar.

Sometimes I want you to think of me, sometimes I want to forget all about you… It’s not the thing I want to leave home… You are playing this game as an escapee… You are sitting with your brown hair as a blond one… You know nothing about English literature history but you read sonnets from Shakespeare, sometimes you are all in silence, but you tell me you were talking about me and my face, you want me to believe that you are a fast driver at night, but you always ask if there is a speed limit or not, you pray for me to live longer but you offer me more cigarettes by saying “you’re so beautiful behind the smoke!”, you trust me, but you are always asking why I am late, you believe in me, you are always losing in more and more questions, you want me by you, and you leave me alone for hours as you need time to think about everything, you dance the flamenco with no rhythm and speed, you are so motionless to be followed on the street, you tell how you love me deeply, you are always watching other beautiful eyes, you are always the most compassionate lover but you fall asleep while I am crying, you always sing me French songs but you have never known the meaning of even one word in French, “M’aimes-tu?”,  I have some real suspense and doubt if I really love the blond man or brown one…

The Lover In Love
Hülya Uçar.

Dear Martin,

I am in a white tower tonight. A lonely big room. Nobody is able to hurt me at the moment. There is no ogre. Every room in the white tower is really kind to me. I can’t stand being on real streets anymore tonight. I discovered this secret tower while I was walking along the dark road. This is the night I’ve had blues again. I thought  it may be better for me to pass the night here safe. Far away from honks, loud voices, rush. I am available to live on my own tonight. There are great short stories lying on the wood floor and very long poems going upstairs in the white tower to pass the night tonight. Every basic need to survive in life is nearby me. I have very long hair tonight. If you wonder the stories in the white tower, you might come over tonight. I won’t be here tomorrow. This is the only time I will be reading the story of the white tower. Tomorrow? Who knows? This is the plan only for tonight. No more stories belong to the white tower will be living with me again. This is a kind and friendly invitation to make you dream the white tower stories. Coming or not… I have very very long hair tonight. We will not need perfect translations of human behaviour to get along as we have known each other for centuries. Everything will be easy. I promise, the white tower is confident. As you, as me, as years… As blues walking around empty streets in decades which we had been two children many years ago. I need your frankly friendship tonight. I have always wanted to wander around in a secret story which the plot was written by two writers at the same night with blues as dreamy as we have missed everything we missed in years. Time is never the same time. This white tower is foggy enough to make us invisible in a story to be two main characters who will be unknown forever. I have very very long hair tonight.

The Secret Letter
Hülya Uçar.

Sometimes I want you to think of me, sometimes I want to forget all about you… It’s not the thing I want to leave home… You are playing this game as an escapee… You are sitting with your brown hair as a blond one… You know nothing about English literature history but you read sonnets from Shakespeare, sometimes you are all in silence but you tell me you were talking about me and my face, you want me to believe that you are a fast driver at night but you always ask if there is a speed limit or not , you pray for me to live longer but you offer me more cigarettes by saying “you’re so beautiful behind the smoke!”, you trust me but you are always asking why I am late, you believe in me, you are always losing in more and more questions, you want me by you, and you leave me alone for hours as you need time to think about everything, you dance the flamenco with no rhythm and speed, you are so motionless to be followed on the street, you tell how you love me deeply, you are always watching other beautiful eyes, you are always the most compassionate lover but you fall asleep while I am crying, you always sing me French songs but you have never known the meaning of even one word in French, “M’aimes-tu ?”,  I have some real suspense and doubt if I really love the blond man or brown one…

The Strange Love
Hülya Uçar.

We had never talked again about it all that night. This was neither our choice nor fate. Is that all? About me? About you? About all our days and nights? We were next to the window. Looking to some cars passing through the street miles away, watching the different style shoes and steps walking further… I am the wrong one for you.” So am I!” Loving is not everything, we need much more than feelings. I tried to tell him slowly, he told me his story slowly, we lived really slowly that night… Listening to the same song, one of us was thinking about the first time that we had listened to it years ago, and one of us was thinking this song was the last one we were together but lonely… Wooden small houses, miniature blue spring flowers kept in a book, handwriting private love notes penned with sometimes hurt sometimes farness, tin post boxes rusted, life hurt companion, with all faithfulness and soul…. I am talentless to live with you, I am quick-tempered in seconds, I am in the bedroom, packing my all life – One shirt, one pair of jeans… The lover realised exactly what I was telling about the last story… We were both next to the door of our wooden house. One of us stayed home, one of us was out…

The Micro Love
Hülya Uçar.

Dear Martin, with all my confusions, then; my fears, at last, my joylessness… I am here. I decided on staying here. The best thing to do at the moment is being motionless. I’m only drinking cups of coffee and sitting here and away. Don’t make any sentences cause I’m not listening to you and your advice right now. I’m thinking about all evil and kindness in my life. I wonder where you are now. What should I do now? To believe you or not… The strange is I’m coming back from all your long stories and looking forward to seeing you in another long story. Is being with you inevitable? Days and nights are passing in a way, you are losing the key on an avenue, as soon as it begins to rain, the story starts with its all longlessness. I am here. It is an August night on an avenue in the rain… Passing all the walkers, drivers, riders, pipe dreamers, I am sitting motionless. Thinking of you, Dear Martin. Thinking of you…

The Lover’s Letters
Hülya Uçar.

The adventure ended. The best thing is to forget everything. A new winter, a new summer, a new evening… There was no dark-skinned stories nor very slowly old cars… You may pass under the old ladder, you may see the old black cat, you may also tell the old stories. I don’t care about you. Even you pass all the streets flying, even you call me at the top of the skyscrapers, even you overtake me from unwritten stories… I don’t care about you. Now, I’ve forgotten you as you want me to forget everything as easily as you wish… And summer stories which were rarely told as well… Night has never ended… You were always whispering, making different sentences one after another, your sunny countries… Nothing belongs to you… I have forgotten all about you… I remember neither your voice nor your eyes… Wooden doors, back doors, garden doors… They are as same as the closed stories like you and me… I am walking along the streets which I have never known before without you… We will never know what really happened, actually, nobody has known what happened in stories until now… We will not be different from usual. We will be two different passengers going away two different ways, one of us to the left, the other to the right…. We will be only an old sentence passed between us, as the pluperfect, we had been lovers once. Like the others. Neither 56th page nor 57th page, there will be no different end belong to us than others… Breeding canary birds at home, thinking about American literature history deeply or singing Italian songs perfectly as an Italian, nothing can change you, me or our end… Even we had been made the last sentence before all the sentences, we will be the lovers who going down the stairs, one to the left, one to the right… We have never had one direction… I have the tendency to leave you, I am a life funk, I am always as worried as one who is never able to be even a small town story around world stories, Let’s not do sums among us, I have no blond tresses, no brilliance…. No long stories… I haven’t been thinking of you in many stories, I haven’t been looking for your face in so many streets, I haven’t been breathing much more air with you, I haven’t loved you… I’ve got to come aboard… Neither right now nor before I have never looked for you, never waited for you… I don’t care you even now… This fear, this worry, this hurt will get better soon… Everything passes to old lives… Like the time before you… I only shut the door as you had wished at the beginning of the story… As you had wanted me to forget all about everything… I have forgotten. I have come aboard…

Leaving Love Hurts
Hülya Uçar.

Dear Martin, I am terribly mistaken. The longer the silence went on, I decided to keep my quietness more and more. Even years will go by, I won’t start to talk again. I have always found myself hoping you to come home back, I had believed you with all questions and farness before you were gone one night. Now? I have been addicted to your absence and forgotten love. I hardly hurt while we were in the same city borders, now I’ve been always hurting my face in the mirror for hours looking forward to seeing you standing by me… I realize that I have created a terrible mess in my life with your long going. I thought, I could have lived without you, but Dear Martin, I am terribly mistaken…Sorry for leaving you, billions of pardons, Martin…Time is losing our hopes and faith, you belong to me…I am terribly in love with you. I was feeling as a beautiful woman in your deep heart. I want you back, Martin. I want you back. I am terribly mistaken…

The Letter
Hülya Uçar.

I ran off the rails. I lost my two very short stories. Trying to get home, I found a paper bag which a very secret note had been written to me on it. Was it really written for me or did I want to believe it ? Actually, even today I have had no real idea. Many years ago , my grandmother entered the contest of beauty and was choosen second beautiful lady in the black sea . After being chosen the second and the most beautiful lady with the longest hair , she flew to Paris to join one more contest to have the cup of the most beautiful eyes. Her luck didn’t go well  this time and came home as the last lady with the most beautiful eyes. She had been crying and repeating always the same sentence ” But my eyes are blue! perfectly blue!”, she could have never put her life and beauty belief in order again. Disapointingly, she might have never liked her perfect blue eyes again… The result of the contest was neither important nor fascinating to live happy with calm, quiet , peaceful days and nights… The picture with brass frame, the second most beautiful lady in the black sea and the last lady with the most beautiful eyes, her hair is a la garçon, looking from afar, her right hand is on her chin… In penetrable sadness looking blues with deep blue eyes…  On the paper bag was written – ” I had loved your grandmother because she had never loved her blue eyes….”

Very Short Story Of The Most Beautiful Eyes
Hülya Uçar.

Breaking Up Shuts Down The Woman –  32 years old woman suffered at midnight. There was a big pain in her heart as she had been left by her love. All the windows and curtains had to be closed so the woman could decide what to do, where to go or how to get rid of the messy in her mind. The woman says that ” I have never realised he had deceived me!” The lovelorn woman added her thoughts ” One morning I woke up and found out myself alone in bed, actually not completely alone, there was a note left near me, it was written that he loved another one and charged me to take care of myself really well. He was so unfaithful but so kind. The ice on the streets in my life were very thin and hazardous to stand and walk on, a million dollars can’t rearrange my life and take the edge off my hurt. This woman of this life really suffered because of heavy rain that night. No one was killed, just injured. 

Breaking Up Shuts Down The Woman
Hülya Uçar.