The word loss was inadequate. Loss just meant a lack, meant something was missing, but it did not encompass the totality of this severance, this terrifying un-anchoring from all that he’d ever known.
Pişmanlıkla dolu yüreğim
Altın kalpli dostlarım vardı benim
Gül dudaklı kızlar
Ve çevik delikanlılar.
Şimdi o delikanlılar
Aşılmaz derelerde boğuldular
O gül dudaklı kuzlar
Güllerin solduğu bahçelerde yatıyorlar.
I like 6B pencils because they almost never snap. When I was writing, I realized something. Your voice reminds me of a 6B. I’m not sure if this is going to make sense, but it’s like they’re soft and rigid at the same time. Almost unbreakable.