We are in the middle of a long road!

I had a few questions, maybe about life, maybe about the good days that never happened.

Maybe to the silence of the dim corridors where I lost myself. I don't just want to know, I want to understand.

I want to calmly escape from the bosom of reasons and take refuge in myself again. It is not only that it takes me away from myself, but sometimes it leaves me alone as I ask. A bloody necklace that sticks to my throat as I keep silent, a pile of resentment that cannot be compensated for as I speak. If it is possible to answer, can you speak by looking deep into my eyes, because my last hope is melting in my heart.

We are in the middle of a long road, some of which is covered with mud, some of which is adorned with fresh lush green grass. The sun greets our soul at the top and the birds call humanity as loud as they can. Gather, gather as much as we scatter, gather as much as we scatter...

There are some sentences that stand upright as if they have tasted immortality in every particle. Some words are a refuge in the shadow of loyalty, a huge pile next to disloyalty. At the end of the fights where tolerance is not enough and silence kneels, a thousand pieces of our hearts are pouring out. Each of the promises is scattered in the firmament and in hearts longing for lands whose names we do not know.

I think that; as we love, the knots of the heart are untied, the river of time spreads to the blues. So why are our steps now caught in knots we don't know? Why did you steal the hope of tomorrow from those who wrap themselves in a ball of dreams in the bosom of silence?

In the streets full of the wail of a lost child, in the smiling face of a dead person, in these two extremes, I was also lost...

I wander every street of the neighbourhood, day by day, leaving my trace behind me, like a call to those who come after me.

I am looking for you in all the streets of the neighbourhood, in the hope that you will hear the voice of my heart, even if it is a prayer, so that you will remember me and understand me.

My hopes for you are hidden in the corners of my neighbourhood. I carved each one of them for you.

As the moonlight slightly illuminates the silhouette of my body, I have hopes that you will see that silhouette and fall in love. We are the gang of this little old neighbourhood.

The streets are quiet, but it's obvious you've been here.

You've left a trace of your breath.

You looked for me but you couldn't find me.

Actually, you found my heart.

We're only fateful partners, two hearts, one love.

My neighbourhood love.

The night falls, the sudden darkness is over.

I look out of my window at the lonely stars in my room.

I think of you. In every cruel night. Naked.

We're writing the history of this neighbourhood, aren't we, as an advice to the ones after us.

We carve history on each tree so that those after us can find each other more easily. We're driving our shadow into the asphalt pavements.