Hatice Tunç
@haticetunc
Edebiyat burada bize yardım edemez.
Şu anda okuduğu kitap
You preferred reading standing up in bookstores to reading sitting down in libraries. You wanted to discover today’s literature, not yesterday’s. The past belongs to libraries, the present to bookstores.
Hangi tür kitapları seviyorsun?
🔎 Polisiye
💕 Romantik
🚀 Bilim Kurgu
🏰 Fantastik
📖 Klasik
🧠 Kişisel Gelişim
🏛️ Tarih
😱 Gerilim
Your suicide was scandalously beautiful.
You were glad to be born on the twenty-fifth of December: “All the people celebrating don’t realize that it’s my party too.Being forgotten spares me the trouble of having to shine.”
When I hear of a suicide, I think of you again. Yet, when I hear that someone died of cancer, I don’t think of my grandfather and grandmother, who also died of it. They share cancer with millions of others. You, however, own suicide. A ruin is an accidental aesthetic object. If it becomes beautiful, this was certainly not the intention. A ruin is not constructed or maintained. The tendency of a ruin is to crumble down into a heap. The most beautiful parts remain standing despite their wear and tear. The memory of you is what stays up, your body what subsides. Your ghost remains upright in my memory, while your skeleton is decomposing in the earth.
Your life was a hypothesis. Those who die old are made of the past. Thinking of them, one thinks of what they have done. Thinking of you, one thinks of what you could have become. You were, and you will remain, made up of possibilities. Your suicide was the most important thing you ever said, but you’ll never be able to enjoy the fruits of this labor. Given that I am speaking to you, are you dead?