Nox Owen Knows
“So, Erawan knows you’re not Aelin.”
She whipped her head to him. “What?” A quick, vague question to
buy herself time. Had Aedion risked telling him the truth?
Nox gave her a half smile. “I figured as much when I saw the surprise
on that demon’s face.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“Am I? Or do you not remember me at all?”
She did her best to look down her nose at him, even as the messengerthief towered over her. Aelin had never mentioned a Nox Owen. “Why
should I remember one of Darrow’s lackeys?”
“A decent attempt, but Celaena Sardothien looked a little more
amused when she cut men into ribbons.”
He knew—who Aelin was, what she’d been. Lysandra said nothing,
and kept walking toward her tent. If she told Aedion, how quickly could
Nox be buried under the frozen earth?
“Your secret is safe,” Nox murmured. “Celaena—Aelin was a friend.
Is still one, I’d hope.”
“How.” She’d admit no more than that regarding her role in this.
“We fought in the competition together at the glass castle.” He
snorted. “I had no idea until today. Gods, I was there for Minister Joval
as a spy for the rebels. It was my first time out of Perranth. My first time,
and I wound up unwittingly training alongside my queen.” He laughed,
low and amazed. “I’d been working with the rebels for years, even as a
thief. They wanted me to be their inside eyes on the castle, the king’s
plans. I reported the strange goings-on until it became too dangerous.
Until Cel—Aelin warned me to run. I listened, and came back here.
Joval is dead. Fell in a skirmish with a band of rebels by the border this
spring. Darrow plucked me up to be his own messenger and spy. So here
I am.” A sidelong glance at her, awe still on his face. “I am at your
disposal, even if you’re not … you.” He angled his head. “Who are
On Saving Time
"... gather and save your time, which till lately has been forced from you, or filched away, or has merely slipped from your hands."
Hangi tür kitapları seviyorsun?
🔎 Polisiye
💕 Romantik
🚀 Bilim Kurgu
🏰 Fantastik
📖 Klasik
🧠 Kişisel Gelişim
🏛️ Tarih
😱 Gerilim
"Çalmadığın bir kapı mutlaka vardır"
"Küçük yaşlardan beri hayallerimin peşinden gitmek konusunda hep inatçıydım. Ülkem sorunlarla, adaletsizlikle boğuşurken, çocuk yaşıma rağmen içim öfkeyle dolup taşıyordu. Annem içimdeki bu öfkemin olumsuz bir yöne sapmasından korkarak, beni olumlu bir kanala yönlendirmek için, 'Yazsana kızım, dedi." İçi öfke ve heyecan dolu bir çocuğa verilebilecek güzel bir tavsiye.
Bu fikir kafasına yatmıştı. On dört yaşında, yerel gazetelere yazmaya başladı. On yedi yaşına geldiğinde araştırma yazıları yazmaya başlamıştı. Film yapımcısı olmaya karar vermişti ama film yapımcılığı okumamıştı:
"Aslında bir yönetmenin ne iş yaptığını bile bilmiyordum. Kendi kendime internetten öğrendim. Yaklaşık 80 kadar film teklifi hazırladım, postaladım ve cevap bekledim. O kadar çok ret cevabı aldım ki sayısını bile hatırlamıyorum."
Sharmeen öyle zamanlarda babasının ona küçük yaşlardan beri söylediği bir sözü kendine hatırlatıyordu: "Çaldığın kapılar açılmadığında vazgeçme, mutlaka hâlâ çalmadığın bir kapı daha vardır." Aldığı her "hayır" cevabında, bir noktada bir "evet" olacağını biliyordu.
Defalarca ret cevabı aldıktan sonra bir gün, New York Times gazetesinden beklediği yanıt geldi. Belgeselini finanse etmek istediklerini söylüyorlardı. "On yıl sonra, Oscar Ödül Töreni'nde kabul konuşması yaparken tek düşündüğüm, iyi ki o kapıları çalmaya devam etmişim oldu" diyordu Sharmeen. Pakistan'da asit saldırısına uğrayan kadınlarla ilgili Saving Face belgeseliyle Oscar'a layık görülmüştü. Üstelik TIME dergisi onu dünyanın en etkili 100 kişisinden biri seçmişti.
Let's go Free them
She’s holding the pistol wrong. Even I know that. It’s too big for her, made of shimmering black metal, with a barrel nearly a foot long. Better suited to a trained soldier rather than a shivering, slight teenage girl. A soldier, I realize with cold clarity. A Silver. It’s the same kind of gun a Sentinel shot me with, so long ago in the cells deep beneath the Hall of the Sun. The bullet felt like a blow from a hammer and went straight through my spine. I would’ve died if not for Julian and a blood healer under his control. In spite of my ability, I raise my hands, palms open in surrender. I’m the lightning girl, but I’m not bulletproof. But she takes this as a threat instead of submission, and tenses, her finger itching too close to the trigger.
“Don’t move,” she hisses, daring to take another step toward me. Her skin, the dark, rich color of blackwood bark, offers her perfect camouflage in the forest. And yet, I see the red bloom beneath, and the tiny scarlet veins webbing the whites of each eye. I gasp to myself. She’s Red. “Don’t bleeding think about it.”
“I won’t,” I tell her, tipping my head. “But I can’t speak for him.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. She doesn’t have time to be afraid. Shade appears behind her, solidifying out of thin air, and wraps her up in an expert military hold. The gun falls from her grasp, and I snatch it before it can hit the rocky ground. She fights, snarling, but with Shade’s arms firmly locked behind her head, she can’t do much more than sink to her knees. He follows, keeping her firmly in hand, his mouth set in a grim line. A scrawny girl is no match for him.
The gun feels foreign in my hand. It’s not my chosen form of weapon—I’ve never even shot one before. I almost laugh at that. To come so far without even firing a gun.
“Get
Sayfa 291
If trauma entails a disconnection from the self, then it makes sense to say that we are being collectively flooded with influences that both exploit and reinforce trauma. Work pressures, multitasking, social media, news updates, multiplicities of entertainment sources -these all induce us to become lost in thoughts, frantic activities, gadgets, meaningless conversations. We are caught up in pursuits of all kinds that draw us on not because they are necessary or inspiring or uplifting, or because they enrich or add meaning to our lives, but simply because they obliterate the present. In an absurd twist, we save up to buy the latest "time-saving" devices, the better to "kill" time.
Much like Schrödinger's cat, no one can exist in two states at the same time. It's our decision whether we yearn after the paths we didn't choose, or instead whether we find happiness in the choices we've made. Perhaps sometimes the best thing is not to overthink, but instead to follow where our hearts take us, and then to embrace our choices.
