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There was a march for refugees – the theme was ‘refugees are welcome here’. We were there to show solidarity and asking never-listening government for better policies.

Jackie left a few days ago, before she left I invited her to come with me but she wanted to visit a church instead. She talked about how hard it’s to leave him behind and how much she cried last time when she said ‘goodbye’. I said your son is here by choose for a better life. You can come to visit anytime you want. But those people have to leave everything  behind; no sacred possessions remain with them, not a single peace of memory they can drag alongside of hem. All they have or want is to have those who they love. Maybe they were lucky enough to escape altogether or at least not alone.

They’re leaving a life behind which may not seem worthy enough to many, but it’s a life after all. The worst of all, not knowing if your loved ones or comrades made it like you did is beyond painful and above any human strength. I kept thinking about the child who was found on the shore dead. I thought about his mother and wish that she is dead too, if not, she will be dead soon.

I never thought of the story that way, I read so much and know so little. it’s- they are- commonly called refugee crises now, and yes, they all are, and only, became a number to me, and to us all as they say as it’s planned.  I don’t know what they did to deserve this for the way god is punishing them in his own sadistic and unjust way. Has he ever been anything other than a deep rich lover , poor hater? you know my answer.

I called him ‘he’ cause I don’t think he could be a woman and doing this to her child. And for this I will never forgive him.

My friend and I recently discovered a great local shop, where you can get the best baguette in London ( actually that’s what my friend says, I personally don’t like to talk big, especially If I haven’t tried all the bakeries.). It was one of these evenings when I went to buy my lovely fresh baguette, But!! I kinda knew I was a bit late, cause the bread man told me to come before 7 p.m otherwise quite luckily it wont be any left, but I went there anyway. It  was a little after 7, walked in the shop the first thing I did was the check the bread container, down on the floor then slowly my eyes moved to the counter and looked at the brad man. It was more like a film scene when you see the camera is pointing down and slowly tilts up . Anyway  I don’t wanna go on about it but I already did. I saw a man standing in front the counter with two baguettes in a bag, waiting for him to pay. I said ‘ but it’s not fair you have two baguettes and I get nothing, with a cheeky smile’ he said ” here, take one” and me asking again ” are you serious’ and he says “yes”

I thanked him and offered him to pay for his baguettes too, but he smiled and said ‘no’ with a hand gesture. Less than a minute later a woman turned up and they started to speak a language that I don’t understand. The bread man said ” you lucky he gave you the bread right before his wife turned up, otherwise she wouldn’t have let him”. I smiled and wished him a good evening.

This made me feel good, amongst many small things happen unexpectedly around me – such as a smile from a stranger for no apparent reason. That little small thing can change my mood completely, from a miserable hopeless being to ‘oh life is so precious, my existence a pure miracle’,and maybe it’s not that bad after all.

Seeing humankind being nice still tickles my hope spot somewhere often hidden in my silhouette, but more importantly witnessing human interactions based on circumstances is very interesting. Operim!

It’s a Saturday morning, woke up later than I planned , which is the cause of my morning downhill mood.

It’s just after eleven, struggling with lots of pain attacking from different sides; up and down, back & forth, head to toe. Pain makes me think differently, I appreciate more and like of myself more.

I am restless, don’t know  how to do it and do what. I cleaned. I washed. Walked around, up and down hoping that something will happen.

I went to him. He was still asleep, but he feels me when I am near him. I turned him on his side, lied next to him, put my arm around him tight, he said “tighter”, I could only do what I was ordered and the order was a great pleasure.

I started whispering: what if it’s not so bad after all, imagine, I’m a horse, but can’t make up my mind which colour I want to be, a black horse perhaps, or brown and suddenly remembering that I also like white, or was it in my dream? I told him that I want him to be a bird, and whichever bird he wants. He said ” sparrow” not sure if i know this bird but he said ” it’s small. he could hide under my saddle, he also said ” I can fly and look around if there is any danger” and I told him that I will have a big mouth so he could get in there and  hide but instead he said ” I could eat leftovers in your mouth”, Would you like that I said “, “sure” he said.

Maybe we don’t need to speak, but we will understand, it’s a different world after all. But I love to talk to you…  he said ” I need to learn horse and you need to learn bird” Ohh gosh, this is so beautiful, this childlike  talk. …Purity. Something else. And here  are tears pushing down my eyes, further down to the cheeks then to to the final land of unknown… one after another…

I’m not good with dates, but I think it was a very hot summer in London, way too hot.

I was very nervous, and didn’t know what to expect. I took a plane from Ataturk airport in  Istanbul. My mom was crying, while telling me what to do, more importantly, what not to do. My dad was very quiet as usual, I guess he didn’t need to say much, because my mom was doing a good job for both of them. Anyway, I kissed their hands and said goodbye, gave a big hug to my cousin, and joined the queue. I tried not to look behind me, but I knew they were looking at me until I disappeared from their view. I don’t remember clearly how I got on the plane, the ony thing I remember is that I was hoping that no one would talk to me, or ask me about anything, or even notice me, if possible.

I got off the plane, and everything was ok so far, but I was scared of the Home Office questions, in fact, not being able to understand the officials, and answering their questions wrongly.

The officer was fairly polite to me, but we had some communication problems. I don’t remember what he was asking me about, but I kept giving him the same answers, “I am chemical engineer from Istanbul, and I work in denim firm.” He asked some other questions, and I  gave the same answers over and over. I guess he was fed up with the same answers. In the end he called a guy to help me out. The guy was a sweet old man, he said he lived in Turkey for a little while, and his Turkish speaking is not very good, but he can understand better. He asked me “w-h-a-t  a-r-e  y-o-u  g-o-i-n-g  t-o d-o in London, how long are you gonna stay here for, and what were you doing in Turkey?” I guess I said my answers in the right way, so I passed the border not with too much difficulty, but certainly with some.

Now, I had to go to Seven sisters from Heathrow, and had no clue how to get there.

The Underground was very scary and complicated to me. There were so many lines, and none of them made any sense to me, because, where I come from (Istanbul)  we have only one line. So it’s very simple, you either go to Taksim or to 4 Levent, so there is no chance of getting lost. I had two big pieces of luggage, one backpack, a hand bag, and my huge old laptop. I got on the Piccadilly line (now I know it was Piccadilly), and kept showing people the peice of paper that said where I wanted to get to. They were telling me where I should change the line, but most of the time I didn’t understand them, and ended up looking at them in the eyes, and shaking my head to say that “ME NO UNDERSTAND, ME SPEAK NO ENGLISH.” One time there was a sweet girl who drew me a picture, which showed where I should get off the train.

Finally I was at the Seven Sisters tube station, but didn’t know how to get all my stuff up the stairs at once, but there was always someone giving me a hand.

Finally, I was out, and very tired. It was after 10 pm and was still bright outside.

A week after keeping myself under isolation, I decided to join the majority and their ritual for Christmas, not because I was out for shopping specifically, it was more about getting the atmosphere, even though I am not crazy about it. I found myself in  town at Selfridges. Suddenly I realized how easily we forget about things. it is because I felt as if I haven’t been to town for years, and the crowd, the scary crowd, made me feel distance from usuals. and also gave a different perspective. Like that of a prisoner after being discharged from the cells, and how hard the life outside is to face after so many days or who knows maybe years. The illusion of the reality; colours fade so quickly into something shinier on the surface.

I thought about the film called “Shawshank Redemption” and  the character played by Morgan Freeman. Even though he managed to get a job, and at least had a chance to sort his life out, there are some many people out there without any options, and they would have to get used to these shiny colours, or be part of them, or dress in them when they are 4 sizes too big or small for them.

I do not know how I got to this point, but all I wanted to say is that the things we feel so familiar with or we feel part of, actually are not that close to us, and it is so easy to get lost in them when you have been part of them all along.

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