This long story was written without facing the facts in large houses which all the tricks had been living behind back doors of the rooms . Some things have no reason to exist in life, some want real things as scared of all dreamy air flying around real life like a secret fog that only odds are able to see. The dreamy things which are called “nonsense and irrelavant ” make the realist ones who love money and power incredibly coward rabbits because loss of the contol cause them to be invisible . The story teller lives with words, sentences and paragraphs which are called worthless as they have no place in business life in the skyscrapers. Someone should move in a quite place which is abondened , someone like a storyteller. Before beginning to write all about the main secret story, I wanted to take my raincoat and go away but the damnation already made me a storyteller once.
I always confuse numbers with nightmares. Whenever something is out of the real life but belong to your own spirit , there is always something to count like men jumping the barriers which are as endless in sweating. There always exist three kinds of lies ; simple lies, complicated lies and the strongest one- Damned Lies! One day in the south part of the city , I was almost shouting out my story from an art magazine to all our relatives and neighbours. It was sort of being alone as a vertical line and just to mug around familiar faces and terraces. We all gathered around a round table about fifteen people, it was a huge table, which was in the middle of the yard among white roses and more kinds of flowers that I had never known and never aimed at learning , and I was reading or shouting my story called “Disappearance” thanks to my uncle who just came from South Africa trip and his brother’s (that is my father) heavy psychological press on me . I was the monkey which was chosen for this night to be popular in the neighbourhood. I was lucky.

When I left the night with white roses out and tried to hide myself under my quilt, I had laothed my own story “Disappearance”. It was so artificial that reminded me the day which I became a quince by wearing a yellow sack in the week of domestic goods in the primary school. I was reading a poem called “quince”, loudly. Life wasn’t always a chain of choices. I was sitting on a kid chair covered with cartoon characters , my feet weren’t stepping on the floor, if I had sat on the end of the chair I could have stepped on the floor but then I felt under the weather.This was a detailed sitting style -Innocent and need to be protected. A long and quiet childhood wasted away in pink losing dreams on a chair with mickey mouse. My uncle just stood up and began to clapp and the others joined to that serious family ceremony by louder clapping. “Great!” and again they all agreed and clapped enthusiastically. I am not really sure whether they’ve still gone on clapping or not but I am definitely sure that I still hear all the clapping at my ears in all my quiet life- I have no doubt ,I am both alone and crowded.
I didn’t have any idea if it was more than a nightmare but I have still had the same pain in me. I just tumbled out of my bed and watched myself. I began to behave like a monkey and gabble near to a monkey while I was clapping me enthusiastically. This was the image of being a monkey- A nameless monkey is reading her story called “Disappearance” to odds and ends loudly. An interesting idea just occured to me ; working as a monkey in a circus – A monkey yelling her stories and whenever the story finishes she bows and greets all the audiences respectfully.Unfortunately, because there is no work for monkeys like that in a circus, again I am still a jobless monkey storyteller. I may satisfy my desire as a guest monkey by reading the stories in our garden , even in other stupid neighbours’ houses and again to odds and ends. There could be a circus chance in near future if I am lucky enough.What an enjoyable life .

Time began to corroborate my thoughts, the following morning, our German next door neighbours Arnold and Ilka, who heard the sounds of the story I was reading loudly around the neighbourhood and in the yard, were impressed by the clapping sounds and invited over me for telling a story. I was the lucky monkey. I’ve never wanted to hurt them and accepted their invitation immediately. It could be a good reference for me and my stories may have had the chance to be popular all around the world and made me an international well-known monkey. The rest of it was easier, when I go overseas, getting better jobs in big and famous circuses would be inevitable. I was in a good humor now.Nobody could make me worried about nicknack. I was Arnold’s story- teller then. As I haven’t known German, firstly I was reading and later his wife Ilka, who knows Turkish a little , was translating it and they were both laughing ,sprightly. I was unaware of the fact that I was writing funny things until that day. Actually, I had also begun to have fun quite a lot.

I was reading my stories to Arnold regularly every week and was very successful at making laugh him thanks to his wife’s translations. I hadn’t intended to entertain someone while I had been writing my stories but the pitiful mood of Arnold, who was having fun with Ilka’s wrong translations and began addicted to my stories slowly in time, showed me the heavy cost of being a monkey. Arnold’s expectations were surpassing my dreams and if I didn’t get rid of my passions of being an international monkey , my dissapearences could be increased. A night that I couldn’t stand to deceive myself more , I took the time to my childhood and began to cry in the middle of reading my story and Arnold looked astonished and embrassed who was again laughing because he was used to laughing. I made my crying more and more powerful to enjoy my victory against these two German neighbours and watch their defeated faces as sobbing and sobbing. I guess, I was the one who enjoys crying as it is usual in my country while it was quite the contrary in their hometown. I had known well that to overdo crying might make me far away to be persuasiveness according to impressions gained in my childhood and shaking confidence was the last thing I wanted to do. Trust was inevitable value in every kind of relation, even between a story teller and a story listener.

I implied that I have no more strength to stand Arnold’s unduly laughings because his wife Ilka had been translating wrongly since beginning while I was sniffing as wearing a face of coldblooded storyteller. They seemed immensely sad. While Ilka was caressing my head, she was telling me that she would be more careful about translating and keep a dictionary around the story and if needed she could skip the parts causing Arnold to laugh a lot which drove me mad. It was totally meaningless for me to continue talking. Silence was better but , I began to laugh involuntary, even die laughing and oddly enough, dear two German story lover neighbours joined in laughing with me right away. That night I decided they were definitely fair-weather friends and laughing was the principal activity , the gist of stories. Sometimes , I agree with them it was sure easier than thinking.

They went to their hometown for Christmas holiday a week later. I missed them a lot. Actually, I felt lonely. I planted new stories in the meantime , I even extravagated to fall in love with my own fictions. It seems that being a monkey was really delighting. I thought I missed even their laughters. One understands the value of something when he loses it. If they had been with me, I would have shared my stories even superficial but enjoyed myself. Daytimes were passing quickly but as I was close to darkness, I couldn’t bear to spend nights usual and lonely , they should have been lived gorgeously. I wasn’t sure of what I was indeed hunting for but all my nights turned into an unknown expectation feeling to meet it suddenly , at any moment of night hours.It may be thought that I was revelling it. To be timed to hopes were increasing my vitality. Furthermore I was attached to nights for dear life passionately. I was waiting sunset firstly and then all the stars to count and follow the phases of the Moon to prove that I was mad. I was gathering evidences from the dark blue sky late time. In cloudy or rainy daytimes , time was passing well, too. Ones who can’t see the sky where they lie down, everymen , never know the joy of falling asleep by counting the stars and falling ones. The darkness and obscurity captured me to deep sleeping.

While the night was spreading in me , my own scream was jarring in quiteness. Dear Arnold’s hands were wandering around my brown long hair and took me a spookish big forest. Arnold had a heavy pressure on me – my long-held fears and doubts. He was strong enough to trail me everywhere even I never wanted. I was both in the middle of the night and ultima thule. I had no idea where I was and how everything happened so quickly. It was dragging me to deep odyssey and infinite questions which have more than one answer- probability, non-existence, suspicion…I was going out at midnights even I was scared of darkness and streets at late time and I was trying to find out evidences that demonstrate my existence at the daytime , I was only awake at darkness with deep breathing. I was sometimes in front of skyscrapers, sometimes in the middle of abondened inns, and all uphil old roads…Stone houses, wooden houses, narrow sidestreets, cobblestone pavements, arabic signs, english street names, Turkish baths…So meaningless, incompatible places…I belonged to no city, no streets, no home… I wasn’t somewhere I knew , worse I was nowhere. This was the price of being a story-teller… I was wondering if I was in walking dream or walking real streets…
The jungle with sorceries was only a nightmare, Arnold, my brown long hair, all weird places, they were long-abandoned roads which no one have passed for years…I was only a miserable witness of time and the story which made us addicted to each other with curiosity and a little doubt. There was nothing that I wished. All my intend is to be a witness to my real soul and maybe when I learn the fact, objecting to it with all my soul and body shouting miles away ” I am not what I am !” . Who knows ? Arnold and Ilka…I realised that they were not my real friends, I was not ready to leave them at that time, though. I was lonely enough to be in nightmares. Arnold, Ilka and others want to listen to happy ending stories, funny things or every time optimistic characters. Is life really like that? I can’t believe how they want only good things and pretend there is no badness in life. Arnold and Ilka have never had bad days, no accidents, no operations, no bankruptcy, no family lost…They were the good man and good woman in life who want always smile and laugh at everything by being positive even they are lost in my story which is written with both dreams and nightmares with damn.
I guess, only the ones who have luck live happily. I don’t want to hear the nonsense that one must create his own luck. These people who always say be positive salad are the really lucky ones in life like millionaires, heirs, kingpins , beautiful ladies and handsome guys. If you have a rich friend , you may find a good job easily. I am the friend of Arnold and Ilka but not many people know them in this country, so this friendship doesn’t work for me to find more and more story-lovers. I was walking around crowded places like flea markets, bazaars, stalls in open markets, squares and every place which one similar to me may wander around at the same time, at the right place. If I find someone who as me, I will feel better in the rest of my life. I am not the only one who writes nonsense stories and read them only to her two faithful and passionate readers all around the world. Two is a bigger number than one, so I must be happy like Polyanna. The bad thing is that Arnold and Ilka are still in their hometown and they might deceive me with another German storyteller in long time. They had better come back. I need two more faces listening to my nonsense fiction and I am bored of my own face reading in the mirror. My silly stories are valuable and meaningful only with Arnold and Ilka.

Amelia Allen Damnation
Hülya Uçar.

There is no one in the town.The ones who came got back. The hotel has already been closed. The sadness of the summer end placed near the hotel ,easily. My suntan is a happy piece of caramel which hot weather gave me as a small award. My two eyes are in the right place but I couldn’t see Jacob. I am unaware of time if it passes quickly or not. My hair grew four centimeters. I cut it but nothing changed. My hair is growing up black now. The street lamp has been broken. The hotel is in darkness, now. I’m not turning off the lights to hide my face. The changes are accelerating when the winter comes and moves in to the neighbourhood. I wonder if I may fall in love again or not. I’ve been looking for Jacob everywhere even I know really well that he is far away countries with another life. I couldn’t have the time to ask why he is leaving the country and me. The evil took Jacob away and didn’t get him back .

New Moon-   Sometimes I worry about being lonely as if one in the world in some Moon phases, and hurt myself , my arm , my foot to realise that I’m alive. I say “Yes, I am here.” I take a deep breath and wait for wearing off the pain. In fact, it is not true; I just watch my soul going away from the phases of the new moon to another world. There is always a woman  tussling with The Storms Ocean. You aren’t able to hug yourself because you have got no hands at the moment. Never think about dressing your hair and life ! It will be difficult like raising your pinky. This is the law of storms. Every woman hurts in some time of the new moon. Who am I in this period ? A pain ?  There will be important storms in everyone’s life to be passed away and real reasons not to seem intelligent smartly for not being left alone and smart. I have never forgotten that there is always a storm to be breaking in new moon.

She Watches Every Phase Of The Moon …In Love…

First Quarter-     I am here, right now. I am with me. Myself is not the deep enough word to tell being solitude.Her name was Margaret. I heard her name while he was sleeping with me. I refuse to be invisible while I was making love ,the ceiling was downfalling on me in seconds which made me felt infinite years passing. Everything  seemed so heartbreaking in bed while he was wandering another life Margaret, Margaret… We went to three pieces, I was lost in all sounds of definite real moments. We were three in bed , I was cut to the heart. There are more pieces -My arms, legs, my hands, the most I love were all scattered around the bedroom. Someone is coming and trying to pick up all my pieces and says ” You’ve scattered a lot lately!”, something like reproaching or advise which I can’t realise exactly whatever is happening. If my kith and kin didn’t notice me , I could get lost more easily, but it is never possible. I had been as tiny as a flea. Stick can’t tell how small I am. I’ve fallen loosely. Not long time later but I may be invisible in a few weeks. That’s true but I have no mouth…The evil had taken it and hasn’t brought back ,yet….   She must have blonde hair and very long. I am light brown-haired now, I may have been really beautiful but I don’t have any reason. I squeezed into a clamp, I save my hands, then it snatches my feet. I’ve had migraine again and again. Jacop’s photograph, how fat he looks here, and very big ears. I’m making him small , very small Jacops with my fascinating hands and place all twenty-five small men into my ashtray very carefully. Before I lighted up my cigar I had killed them. I watched the stars and the Moon on the balcony of the motel, the night was so charming through the sky.

Full Moon  Five  days passed.I have still this terrible migraine headache.My socks have run, again. They can’t be worn anymore, I threw them on the black beans which all the dried layer of fat  with pieces of broken glass not to leave my running socks alone in the trash bag. Nothing changes if I don’t go out today. I counted, eighteen birds flew near the motel today. It will be more difficult to count them in the autumn and I might say four bird teams pass today, and raise my head to the sky and ask when it rains , as soon as I ask, the acid rain starts – All the trees around the motel will dry up , the birds will never fly back and worse still I can’t take a breath…All these things may not be, I have never been deceived while sleeping with before, it hurts me deeply , no one can imagine how I was being killed more than once unnoticeably.Without a heart , I try to write something about the day , but then I give up writing since I decide that I have nothing to write. I’m doing nothing these days. I go to bed around nine o’clock. That is my life, lately. The only changing thing is I have been looking for him in the drawers, near window frames, under the table cloth, under the sofa cushions, even in my bed. Jacop had gone. I know who took him away and where he is. Tell me, how this hurt stops going on me. I told him how I missed my mom, before  I told all the deepness of me , he had already fallen asleep. The worse thing I didn’t know that he was sleeping with another woman that night, too. The darling was a big suicide for me in blind hours. I was only sleepless.

Last Quarter –     I’ve begun to take photos. The photos of the motel, houses around the motel, trash dumpsters around the neighbourhood,the back door of the motel surrounded by shrubbery , the post boxes with no names, very old motel sign that was written bed&breakfast , a few old wooden tables and chairs, they all look in solitude and I took all the views of abondened places around the motel which were similar me. When I got tired, I sat back on a wet wooden chair in the autumn rain, there was nothing left behind me, I fell down, badly. I sprained my right hand, and it was too late to cure it. I waited untill tomorrow in hurt. He was my love. I am not able to leave -the love, the motel and the summer houses all around the neigbourhood  and in me…

New Moon –  It was difficult to walk but I was wondering the photographs. The man with a beard , after a long time, six hours twenty minutes later, came near me and said ”I wish you didn’t wait.” Before asking why, he told me almost all the photographs were damaged and one of them was photographed well. I was fallen to pieces and my right arm was broken but there was no need to get pieces together, I left everything as it had been. After a short time, he called out me to come back. That time he was without a beard. I wondered if I spent the night there. It was very early to go back home and I got back him. He said “You’ve forgotten something.” and just gave me a photograph. Without paying a lot, I came back home with my broken arm. I didn’t have many places to go. I have never understood why I had pushed myself these moments which cost me too much and hurt me deeply. Passing the nights out with a stranger and hurt yourself knowingly…29 days 12 hours 44 minutes finished .

Lunar Month –  We may come together…We may change…I ensconced my body with all broken bones to the rocking chair next to the window and talked about solitude with my spanish bayonet. It told me that it wasn’t lonely , lived with its moth. I didn’t talk to it  once more untill it was dark. I looked at the photograph all day long. A man wearing a black coat, turned his back and stepped forward his right foot…I have never remembered that I had seen any man like him before. The full Moon will appear again and that night, I will make a wish ,watch the beauty of the Moon face and dream the secret face of it. Invisible face of the Moon. Say, how would the summer come back? Darling, motel, garden sheds…The slatted shutters were all broken in stormy winter nights. I am taking pleasure in looking for you. “Jacop will come back from Araby soon …” Most of us were Jacop. The woman had left someone else and never come back, either. She knows by heart, she and Jacop are a tropic , someone stops and changes places. According to the photograph which had been taken from the Space, it was understood that the far side of the Moon closely resembled the near side of the Moon.

The Secret Face Of The Moon
Hülya Uçar.

Knowing what I hadn’t done before you left the lands which we both breathed deeply, hurts me endlessly now. I clearly know that I really love you with my lungs breathing your secret in surviving realities. When at last I decided to walk to your apartment on 247th street, you had already gone to other heart-land. I haven’t told you how much and how long I have been loving your raspy voice singing country on highways, while I was whistling through the warm wind at late night. I had tried to touch your unmade long sentences which you meant you imagined in your soul to be told, I had meant to leave my and your soul to swim freely in far away pipe dreamed oceans but it was not allowed to be spitting into the wind in the borders of the oceans before everything happened suddenly as loving without plans. Once I came to your apartment bulding on 247th street, before I arrived to confess, you had gone out again. I knocked, knocked and knocked at the door for very long sentences to confess my deep secret feelings with my hazel eyes and hazel hair…How we were so unlucky that I missed you one more time at night…I still have the story in my heart and I am not afraid of telling it now, but it is too late make more long conversations to make our foggy love to make true even just between us. It will stay as two lovers platonic love each other for long years. I have regretted in every minute of desert because I might have told you that I am a life funk to want help from you to courage me in walking your mind and heart streets before you shut the door on 247th street. What a pitty ! We might have been two very long time lovers ! I am definetely certain that you would believe me exactly if I told you my truth about my soul puzzle.For one thing I am really sorry –  I could have never kissed you…Patırtılı, gürültülü bir hikaye anlatmak isterdim, içinde senin ve benim hiç saat tutmadan sokak sokak yürüyebildiğimiz gündüz gece. Nihayetinde bir hikayemiz yok. Biliyordum gündüzdü, geceydi, güvenli değildi, biliyordum sonu yoktu. Arada sırada uykularımız bile imkansızdı, gizli bir seyir hali aşk hikayesinde dolanacaktık . Sen de, ben de üzülecektik. Başka ne söylenebilir ki şimdi ? Olanaksız hamle hayalleriyle geçti bütün zamanlar. Ne okyanuslar gerçek olabildi, ne de çok yakınlar…Denizde, karada, havada, çok uzaklar ve çok yakınlarda çok sessiz bir hikayeyi çok sessiz içimizden okuduk. Çok iyi bildiğim şu, ağzımdan bir türlü çıkamayan cümle, şimdi söylenebilir. Şimdi çok ama çok uzaklardasın ve evet, şimdi söylenebilir : Ben seni deli gibi sevdim….

The Impossible Love
Hülya Uçar.

There is no one in the town.The ones who came got back. The hotel has already been closed. The sadness of the summer end placed near the hotel ,easily. My suntan is a happy piece of caramel which hot weather gave me as a small award. My two eyes are in the right place but I couldn’t see Jacob. I am unaware of time if it passes quickly or not. My hair grew four centimeters. I cut it but nothing changed. My hair is growing up black now. The street lamp has been broken. The hotel is in darkness, now. I’m not turning off the lights to hide my face. The changes are accelerating when the winter comes and moves in to the neighbourhood. I wonder if I may fall in love again or not. I’ve been looking for Jacob everywhere even I know really well that he is far away countries with another life. I couldn’t have the time to ask why he is leaving the country and me. The evil took Jacob away and it didn’t get him back,

New Moon-   Sometimes I worry about being lonely as if one in the world in some Moon phases, and hurt myself , my arm , my foot to realise that I’m alive. I say “Yes, I am here.” I take a deep breath and wait for wearing off the pain. In fact, it is not true; I just watch my soul going away from the phases of the new moon to another world. There is always a woman  tussling with The Storms Ocean. You aren’t able to hug yourself because you have got no hands at the moment. Never think about dressing your hair and life ! It will be difficult like raising your pinky. This is the law of storms. Every woman hurts in some time of the new moon. Who am I in this period ? A pain ?  There will be important storms in everyone’s life to be passed away and real reasons not to seem intelligent smartly for not being left alone and smart. I have never forgotten that there is always a storm to be breaking in new moon.

She Watches Every Phase Of The Moon …In Love…

First Quarter

I am here, right now. I am with me. Myself is not the deep enough word to tell being solitude.Her name was Margaret. I heard her name while he was sleeping with me. I refuse to be invisible while I was making love ,the ceiling was downfalling on me in seconds which made me felt infinite years passing. Everything  seemed so heartbreaking in bed while he was wandering another life Margaret, Margaret… We went to three pieces, I was lost in all sounds of definite real moments. We were three in bed , I was cut to the heart. There are more pieces -My arms, legs, my hands, the most I love were all scattered around the bedroom. Someone is coming and trying to pick up all my pieces and says ” You’ve scattered a lot lately!”, something like reproaching or advise which I can’t realise exactly whatever is happening. If my kith and kin didn’t notice me , I could get lost more easily, but it is never possible. I had been as tiny as a flea. Stick can’t tell how small I am. I’ve fallen loosely. Not long time later but I may be invisible in a few weeks. That’s true but I have no mouth…The evil had taken it and hasn’t brought back ,yet….   She must have blonde hair and very long. I am light brown-haired now, I may have been really beautiful but I don’t have any reason. I squeezed into a clamp, I save my hands, then it snatches my feet. I’ve had migraine again and again. Jacop’s photograph, how fat he looks here, and very big ears. I’m making him small , very small Jacops with my fascinating hands and place all twenty-five small men into my ashtray very carefully. Before I lighted up my cigar I had killed them. I watched the stars and the Moon on the balcony of the motel, the night was so charming through the sky.

Full Moon  Five  days passed.I have still this terrible migraine headache.My socks have run, again. They can’t be worn anymore, I threw them on the black beans which all the dried layer of fat  with pieces of broken glass not to leave my running socks alone in the trash bag. Nothing changes if I don’t go out today. I counted, eighteen birds flew near the motel today. It will be more difficult to count them in the autumn and I might say four bird teams pass today, and raise my head to the sky and ask when it rains , as soon as I ask, the acid rain starts – All the trees around the motel will dry up , the birds will never fly back and worse still I can’t take a breath…All these things may not be, I have never been deceived while sleeping with before, it hurts me deeply , no one can imagine how I was being killed more than once unnoticeably.Without a heart , I try to write something about the day , but then I give up writing since I decide that I have nothing to write. I’m doing nothing these days. I go to bed around nine o’clock. That is my life, lately. The only changing thing is I have been looking for him in the drawers, near window frames, under the table cloth, under the sofa cushions, even in my bed. Jacop had gone. I know who took him away and where he is. Tell me, how this hurt stops going on me. I told him how I missed my mom, before  I told all the deepness of me , he had already fallen asleep. The worse thing I didn’t know that he was sleeping with another woman that night, too. The darling was a big suicide for me in blind hours. I was only sleepless.

Last Quarter      I’ve begun to take photos. The photos of the motel, houses around the motel, trash dumpsters around the neighbourhood,the back door of the motel surrounded by shrubbery , the post boxes with no names, very old motel sign that was written bed&breakfast , a few old wooden tables and chairs, they all look in solitude and I took all the views of abondened places around the motel which were similar me. When I got tired, I sat back on a wet wooden chair in the autumn rain, there was nothing left behind me, I fell down, badly. I sprained my right hand, and it was too late to cure it. I waited untill tomorrow in hurt. He was my love. I am not able to leave -the love, the motel and the summer houses all around the neigbourhood  and in me…

New Moon –  It was difficult to walk but I was wondering the photographs. The man with a beard , after a long time, six hours twenty minutes later, came near me and said ” I wish you didn’t wait.” Before asking why, he told me almost all the photographs were damaged and one of them was photographed well. I was fallen to pieces and my right arm was broken but there was no need to get pieces together, I left everything as it had been. After a short time, he called out me to come back. That time he was without a beard. I wondered if I spent the night there. It was very early to go back home and I got back him. He said “You’ve forgotten something.” and just gave me a photograph. Without paying a lot, I came back home with my broken arm. I didn’t have many places to go. I have never understood why I had pushed myself these moments which cost me too much and hurt me deeply. Passing the nights out with a stranger and hurt yourself knowingly…29 days 12 hours 44 minutes finished .

Lunar Month –  We may come together…We may change…I ensconced my body with all broken bones to the rocking chair next to the window and talked about solitude with my spanish bayonet. It told me that it wasn’t lonely , lived with its moth. I didn’t talk to it  once more untill it was dark. I looked at the photograph all day long. A man wearing a black coat, turned his back and stepped forward his right foot…I have never remembered that I had seen any man like him before. The full Moon will appear again and that night, I will make a wish ,watch the beauty of the Moon face and dream the secret face of it. Invisible face of the Moon. Say, how would the summer come back? Darling, motel, garden sheds…The slatted shutters were all broken in stormy winter nights. I am taking pleasure in looking for you. “Jacop will come back from Araby soon …” Most of us were Jacop. The woman had left someone else and never come back, either. She knows by heart, she and Jacop are a tropic , someone stops and changes places. According to the photograph which had been taken from the Space, it was understood that the far side of the Moon closely resembled the near side of the Moon.

The Secret face Of The Moon
Hülya Uçar.

I have trained my sights on joining a club. Sometimes people only look for something to live to breath for details, you know the ins and out, some shitty things. To be free has a deep joy but sometimes there is a need to be belonged to and own. I have always wanted to be free but this is the time to belong to a club. Everything is possible when you trust in yourself and I am sure that I can succeed it. Grass lovers association, haunted houses landlords association, voluntary pack rat followers club, collectors of their exboyfriends’  sleeve links union, dreamers to be millionaire with lotteries club or naked idlers club… I wish I were a member of great number of clubs. Life is always different from one to another. Your treasure may be a trash for me , so before judging stay alone for days, weeks and months. I am able to be a good member of any club who accepts my apply. I can walk on the streets, stand among the crowded pavements, enter the shopping malls and even look around windows, ask some questions to information desks, probably ask for the time to a stranger. Yes, I am the one to hit the jackpot.

Sharing the responsibilities and crime relieve our mind. I am very scared to death of being guilty or criminal but I’ve said shit five times since morning. I’ve burnt my hand while  making coffee, clumsy ! oh shit!, I broke my favourite mug that always good life was written on it, oh shit!, while I was picking up the broken pieces, I cut my finger, oh shit!, I have blood phobia, shit!, the door bell is ringing , that’s the put on it , shit neighbour… I have said five times shit , again with this one seven, and I am very scared to death to be a criminal. I have also sworn but this secret is between you and me. Shut up small voice ! I am tired of you… I had never sworn since now and I have had nothing good or luck. Keep me going on life, even I want to swear at you.

It’s nearly six .It is just a perfect day. Some broken pieces and a hurt and bloody finger. This is the bill of the day, actually I don’t want to make account with life, it always beats me with the high numbers, at least three digit numbers.There is nothing healthier than smiling. Thanks to being cheerful, I can take much more oxgyen, I must try to never forget about it. It is helpful for bloodstream, as I lost blood in the morning smiling would be the main solution not be bad and cold. I can manage to detox, I had eaten one hamburger yesterday, so it works even for getting of the harm of fat and high calories, anyway , it was delicious, I have been smiling for the last ten minutes, it is something like a funny game, once when you start it even as a game , it becomes your reality, yes, the game comes true. By the way, smiling is a kind of magic tonic to be younger and more beautiful, nobody can stop me since now, life will go on my smiles, it could even make the ugliest one , an extremely attractive woman or man, so what, who wouldn’t like to grin like a cheshire cat . With my smiles I can bewitch everybody who is rounding me, like a secret gun. Firstly, I must look in mirror and practise smiling poses, I am smiling now, is it good enough to impress one ?, I am trying to smile a bit more, yes, is it far away to be persuasiveness? , I am smiling more sincere, yes that’s it, one is impressed, my teeth are extremely white, if not I musn’t smile, it’s not my opinion, the magazine says it, if my laugh lines seem dramatic I must never smile , why ?, not to look older and uglier than I am of course ! I have to learn the art of smiling, maybe it is a little odd but I am going to be used to smiling different types in front of the mirror, it seems like we will be good friend with my mirror after today, how lucky it is or I am , I shouldn’t get worried about sun lines, I have to take care about the wrickles between my two eye brows, if there are really explicit wrinkles then I should try to smile without wrinkling , there must be a way to do it right, and secondly, if I suceed it as it must be, then I must talk in a good voice while smiling, my voice mustn’t sound artificial or tough, yes it looks like I am going to work on smiling more and more days, untill I believe I am really happy and cheerful. I don’t exagerate everything about smiling or wrinkles, I don’t retail all the smallest things and I don’t want to be extremely boring, time and eveything is as same as I behave right now. I am sorry, dear mirror, you are not damned funny ! This is my job today.

It is a new morning and a new life with my new style tittering. Oh dear mirror, tell me I am the most beautiful woman with the most beautiful smile in the world … I considered myself to be a happy woman. I always take a shower every morning and wear the most beautiful color dress and wonderful leather shoes and get ready to walk around the mirror and real life. When I am out , I always walk along the street carefully without standing on banana peels and try to mince very oftenly. Whenever I wanted to change my walking direction from south to north, I look in my mirror and at the most beautiful and attractive pose, I change my way to be in different place , different moment. I have never failed timing and I suppose I am always perfect. My eyes are a little bit big but they look everything hot, my hair is messy but it smells fantastic , I am not tall but I won’t be a basketball player, so I am a very romantic and far away beauty of deepness in mirrors. Maybe I am exceeding the speed limit as a liar walker, maybe not! Anyway , I minced on my own choice within 24 hours. What a wonderful woman !

Weeks passed. Many things have changed. Sitting next to the window, I am watching ordinary walkings on the pavements, from left to right, from north to south, I have never known the directions in all my life, that is the loud and clear lack of my abilities. I have never memorized a beautiful song from start to end, everytime a few words and sung unharmonious, never as same as the real song, very oftenly fabled by my soul. There is no time today to question my passing time. I am only a watcher, right now. I have a terrible headache. People in the streets going around my loneliness, rush into solitude poems , they and I are so mismatched. A woman wearing pink high heels look so vivacious that she can hug everybody and dance singing a crowded song… Me ? I am sitting on an old green wing chair to be a watcher. Without taking risk, I am breathing in the living room. Today, I don’t feel like dreaming or reading a long poem, I am clear on being realist. The old man trying to across the street can’t see the cars, signs, streets even with his big glasses. Life is more difficult for him. Another man, sitting on the corner with his dog is a homeless. He hasn’t even an old green wing chair to sit and regret or dream. This is the real pavement. Today I have no dreams. Life is real enough for me to sit and think about it. I am thinking of you, dear life.

The Scary Life Fantasy
Hülya Uçar.