The Story of My Heart

“You once told the story of your heart. The place where the story of your heart began was a land of forest and flowers. Under the stars

It was the day after your first night on the road.

You were sweating, the mountain wind was lightly touching your skin. You came from far away. From beginningless absence, loneliness and

from silence... On that starry night, you walked into the silence that lasted for centuries. More than just the path you've traveled lies ahead of you.

You wiped your sweat and sat in the shade of an old oak tree. You leaned your back against the old trunk of the tree. This is endless at the end of your eyes...

A deserted green sea. When you closed your eyes, your story began, and when you opened them again, you were walking on the paths of that story.

You said, 'Knowing requires openness of heart, don't forget that.'

Was it the notebook in which you told the story of your heart, or the friends who gathered around you and waited with love for the words coming from your tongue?

was it? Were the stones and trees you leaned your head on? Where did you start telling and who was listening to you? If I say your friends

remains incomplete. It wouldn't be enough if I say Dersim mountains, the paths that go around the mountains, the fairytale birds whose voices are still heard in the valleys, the snow...

Is it the delicate flowers that break through and reach the earth, or...

I realized that you told the story of your heart to a country where you have walked many times. You didn't say human, you didn't say animal, tree, water. Feel-

You told everyone you knew. To your heart's content. Without being forced, without forcing. It was a little red, a little childish, with a lot of green in it. Blue

There was a piece of the sky. You were there the most..."