Didem A

"I don't think anything's wrong with him, sir," he'd said, carefully. "I just think he's not—" Happy, he nearly said. But what was happiness but an extravagance, an impossible state to maintain, partly because it was so difficult to articulate? He couldn't remember being a child and being able to define happiness: there was only misery, or fear, and the absence of misery or fear, and the latter state was all he had needed or wanted. "I think he's shy," he finished.
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None of them really wanted to listen to someone else’s story anyway, they only wanted to tell their own.
No one was there, he realized. The room was his. He felt his creature inside him.
Sanki bedenim ikiye ayrılmış da birbiriyle kovalamaca oynuyor. İkisinin arasında kocaman bir sütun yükselmiş ve onlar da birbirlerini yakalamak için sürekli dönüyorlar onun çevresinde. Bir parçam doğru kelimeleri biliyor, ama diğeri onu yakalayamıyor
İçimden bir şey koptu gitti ve bu boşluğu dolduracak hiçbir şey çıkmadı. Bedenimde sıra dışı bir hafiflik vardı ve duyduğum sesler boğuk boğuk yankılanıyor, çınlıyordu.