Long time ago, years ago, when I was a wayward teenager, she told me that I used to behave very alike Istanbul. She compared; "same passion, same vividness, same melancholy, same pain, not that much big but crowded, full of things..sophisticated, uneasy but still worth living.." I used to like cliches, especially this kinds of Istanbul similes..I liked it at the very first moment....Then years have chased each other, and I suddenly got shattered by the fact of the identity change..Another city, another identity, another person.. How have I been becoming this city now calmly, slightly, automatically? How could I take my character off and turn it into a hysterical and a cynical moose?.. I know it is beautiful..I love it..
But I hate the fact that I love it..
But I hate the fact that I love it..