Love. The most beautiful thing in life. It makes me happy. So magical. Perfect. Perfection within imperfections. High energy. Emotional healing.
The will to live. Travel and love. Isn’t love, after all, a journey to a distant land? Utopia. Paradise. All doors opening. Every opportunity coming to fruition. The beauty of every new day. Walking, walking hand in hand along the roads. Especially along the path of life.
Baroque music playing in the background. Sunset. Your breath upon me, deep into my bones. Ending the day making love together in bed. My skin mingling with yours. Exploring. The unknown parts of our bodies. The parts we’ve never shown anyone.
Your breath mingling with mine. Time standing still. Your eyes meeting mine. Meditating together, gazing into each other’s eyes. Remaining in a meditative state together as our bodies intertwine.
Even as days and years pass, always alive. Always energetic. Always happy. Because in the background of our thoughts lies our connection to the essence. It provides us with life energy like a dynamo. You are spiritual, and so am I.
We also share a love of music—the creative kind, the kind that lifts us up. Music in the morning, music at night. Food for our souls. As long as there’s music—as long as it’s played and listened to—life will go on. Our love will go on. Peace and brotherhood will go on.
We have money, too. I earn money from art, and you earn money from therapy. Of course, we can live like this forever.
We share the housework, too. Well, life is a shared journey, isn’t it? How could life be any more beautiful? Could there be a more perfect life than this?
A trip to Italy together for three or four days. How could it be any more beautiful than this?
To Rome—to the heart of that spirit, where art, architecture, and religion are reinterpreted, just as they were during the Renaissance. To stay at a historic hotel there. To get lost in the city’s backstreets.
Your hands in mine. My eyes lost in yours. This is something timeless. Time has stopped. In these historic moments, I continue to write my poems and stories.
After all, I intend to leave works behind for future generations. I want to touch people’s lives. I want to make them love life and be a source of good for them. Isn’t that beautiful? The merging of my life with yours, my body with yours, my being with yours. Becoming one.
And the future. After the youth vaccine is invented, never growing old. Beautiful moments, beautiful creations, beautiful existence, beautiful breaths, beautiful places, beautiful cafes, beautiful lives.
Going into the city from time to time. Returning to beautiful Istanbul after every trip. Missing Istanbul from afar—its beautiful hills, its beautiful air, that city where even the stones and soil are made of gold. To miss the Bosphorus, the scent of the sea. Its beautiful people, its parks, its historic streets. The tram. To catch the sea’s alluring gaze when the wind blows gently.
To feel timelessness, infinity. Immortality, being the master of the moment. To experience being a god or goddess in our own small way.
May the life we’ve built together create a ripple of happiness throughout the world, throughout the entire universe—no, may it instill abundance, prosperity, health, peace, and life itself.
And of course, reading books. Reading the works of famous psychologists, philosophers, poets, and writers. Bringing life to life through their works. The powerful combined effect of imagination and expression. Reflecting this magic, the perfection and joy of our lives, in my own works as well.
To kiss those snow-white hands. The free sway of her hair in the wind. Sailing with a jib in the sea of her eyes. Surfing the mysterious currents of life.
This writing feels as if it will never end. As long as I live, as long as you live: the breeze, the lush greenery of the trees, the magnificent taste of tea, the freshness of kebabs, the blue of the sea merging with the sky, the deep allure of literature, the rhythm of poems and their soaring freedom, the carefree play of cats, the joyful chirping of birds, the warm friendship of the people, the inviting flow of days one after another, the intense red of roses, moments blending into one another—it will never end.
And may it never end.