Chatting With My Brother Chof

By Atemi Kayaky

We are faced with an industrialization phenomenon that makes itself felt in literature as well as in every other subject. The reshaping of literature according to the conditions of market capitalism turns literary products into simple consumables. Newly released literary novels, stories, poems, essays, etc. literary products no longer have an artistic quality, they are consumed quickly and resemble Hollywood movies…

Identical, fabricated books adorn the shelves of the bookstore. We are faced with books that appeal to the eye, not to the pleasure of reading. Every day, we are showered with novels whose content resembles a movie script, and the most popular ones are immediately adapted to the cinema. Their styles, plots and even the subjects themselves are extremely superficial, identical books are everywhere.

There are quite a few pages in such works, but it is possible to read and finish them in a short time. We would like to say that the reason for this is that it is written in a successful language. However, if we consider that the majority of the people who read these books find it boring and they find it boring, this is not the main reason. The main reason is that in such industrial novels, whether it is character analysis, description of environment and events, a very superficial work is done. Writers don't think about these things. Because – a group of authors should be excluded from this – what is important for authors now is the sales figures and the amounts they will earn, rather than the literary and aesthetic characteristics of their works.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atemi Kayaky
• Release date: Aug 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201840990

Book preview

*****one*****

Chatting With My Brother Chof - Ahmet Faruk Keçeli - Hedgehog Literature and Think Magazine

My brother called me. You don't remember, but I do, you and I played choo- choo , I said. My brother finally remembered the electric train his father bought. It was Thursday. I said, Brother, it doesn't matter whether I'm an Alevi or a Bektashi, in short, they all went through the same door.

Why did you rob the jeweler? We didn't rob Ahmet, they threw it at us. We found the money and returned it to its place. Didn't he? If you can't find the money, we won't leave you alone even in the grave? He said, Ahmet, he said."

The MHP Chairman of the time comes to my country. Chuf choo Abi is responsible. In the end, they return the money and relax.  Choo -choo Abu, Is the Veterans' s involvement? Isn't it, Ahmed? He didn't like Kibaroğlu , Yildiz used to hang out. What happened, Brother, he was just dreaming . Haram money didn't work at all, choo choo Evening dress.

How beautiful is the sky? Blue, light blue. They call it Albayrak, but it's actually close to burgundy. Choo choo My brother's veins are blue. He was roaming around the country. Thirty-five years old, thirty-five times maaşallah . I found myself at thirty-six. I've never needed it, Badadad With My Eyes Closed  . I adorned my nation with lace, don't ask why. There was a strange Orhan Veli in the back, supporting me. Don't upset your family, tell me what you're going through, said choo choo Abi. No Brother, will I upset you?  

I'm thinking with my eyes closed, why is Uğur Mumcu's shot? The rose has turned white, they want peace in the land. If it doesn't come to the hopelessly in love flower, it will come back. For some reason, his voice is not thin, but distorted by alcohol. Talk to the flower, he said. I'm not talking choo choo, Brother. I cut the connection.

Let the rose be white, my love needs red, what can I say, is there a patient without pain ? Let the rose be white, Mardin is at the door, don't let the walls fall down, destroy the one who washes! My name is Ahmet. I do not allow culture thieves. What suffering people have suffered, his love is politics, his legacy of wealth. Bitter hell did not laugh at the East at all.

Call me someday, said choo choo Abi. Then, Abi, I'm too young to be a consultant. I know amazing people, call them. They are using it, Brother, they are using their names, they are innocent."

My green comes from the Black Sea mountains, choo choo, Brother. Remember me, you need me as much as I need you.

 Ocakbaşı gift Abraham, did not bother him, in vain. Come, come, come, enjoy the raki at the wedding table! Come, come, come, come to the instrument played during the wedding! Someday, Brother, people will succeed in the light of a hope-filled life. You and I are guests only in this life. If we see those days, you will remember me.

Choo choo closed the Abu phone. It was on the edge, it was near me. What a beautiful voice she had. Mine was thin. Hello to a life full of hope disguised as a strange person. By the people for the people, not by the people for the people. This is how I learned from my masters. They just deceived them, I don't know how many years later. What did our ancestors say, our word is like philosophy, why not love verses philosophy?

Well done, you and me at a locksmith's table.

One Uğur Abi is left behind. I will pay my debt when I learn about his life. Work hard Ahmet Faruk, maybe you can sleep happily under a plane tree.

There was an invitation to Nazim Hikmet under the plane tree in Söğüt. Wasn't he from the navy? Yes, yes, it was from the navy. White dress her eyes, lighters lighters shone.

Does it smell salt? Does it stink when it doesn't work at all? Those who eat salt with bread know how bread and salt smell. The greed surrounded me. Who was in the rose garden and who was not in Cihan Bahçe? The hopeful greenery wrenched my heart. Let it be forbidden for us to live alone.

How beautifully the poet said: If I do not burn, if you do not burn, how will the darkness come to the light? Kids today don't play choo choo, unfortunately . Collective hide and seek, metal, ivory ... haram.

Good luck to the morning when I am writing this article. Those were the good days, the choo choo years, you and I consumed the girls rudely. An article is left, once it is presented as well, it is like a reed that receives my thesis. All that's left is love, if there's no job, I'll create the job, on top of the mountain.

*****2nd*****

Öksüz Ev - Berrin Yelkenbiçer - Kirpi Literature and Think Magazine

He was surprised that he hadn't been found empty and rang the bell, but rather waiting for the door to open. Thinking that it would never open again, he put his weight on the door, first his head and then his whole body. He took deep breaths to ease the wave of pain that was rising from his heart to his throat. He took out his key, found the hole with trembling hands, and stepped into the dim coolness of the apartment hall. Nobody's above-sweet Pleasant geldiiin ! he didn't call. It was cold all over the place. When he got to the apartment door, he was out of breath, as if he had walked not just one floor but dozens of floors. This time he didn't ring the bell, his key was ready. Stoped. He knew the door wouldn't open, he knew there wouldn't be a nervous click of slippers from inside. He also knew that the smell of green beans with olive oil, which he loved so much, would no longer ooze from left to right, but he waited anyway. It was the first time in a long time that he had opened this door himself.

Navy blue slippers with white buckles were carefully left next to the entrance, as if he had left in the morning and would definitely return home in the evening. In fact, he had left the house like that; I didn't get rid of fevers or coughs, I drink my hot water with honey and lemon, I get up, but you don't let go, he said. I'll have a grandchild in two days, I'll make walnut cookies, so I can go and get well soon, he added to convince himself. The slippers were size 35, they were not found in every store, why did this come to your mind now?

It wasn't the first time he was inside. Not the rattling of boiling pots, not the sound of music from the television, nor the crackling of starlings trying to make their nests left and right in the shutters. Even the clock, which managed to make itself heard among all the sweet voices, fell silent. He was grateful for the click of the light switch. He ran quickly and pressed all the buttons. He listened to his own footsteps and the click of all those buttons. When all the lights came on, the sounds ceased. The house fell silent again. 

Hearing footsteps, he ran back to the kitchen. It was then that he realized, the refrigerator was running with a very faint engine sound. He opened his door, faced the radiant coolness, and closed his eyes. He waited a while. When she opened the door with the warning sounds again click shelves of all click- saw that it was full. The grandchild would come. That cough would pass, and they would all laugh happily at large tables. 

His throat choked when he saw the white cup with pink flowers next to the sink, it had been washed and meticulously sealed. Favorite cup of hot water with honey and lemon. It had not been shelved above, it would return immediately. He was surprised that all four of the stove's eyes were empty. When they arrived, at least two of them, and four of them, if there were grandchildren, would be filled with large and small pots. He couldn't understand how he had dropped the cup he had taken to drink water. This white with pink flowers released his suppressed sobs. The law that even the cup held was crying while he was picking up the broken pieces on the floor.

Clinging to both tears and footsteps, she ran to the bedroom. He curled up on the bed. Pajamas were neatly folded and left at the head. He always kept a separate set for the hospital, hospital pajamas and clean underwear that were washed and ironed, always kept in a drawer just in case. They finally worked. What had happened to them? They did not return it from the hospital. He was ashamed of the misplaced thought that had crossed his mind. 

He stood up quickly, dizzy, and waited for a while. She reached for one of the colorful scarves lined up by the bathroom mirror, a light perfume and the scent of life swept up her nose. It means that even if the soul is gone, its smell remains, that's how it is on scarves, towels, pillows.

He tucked the scarf around his neck and walked into the living room, dragging his feet hard. He shrieked as he saw the pale shadows in front of the window sill. I'm sorry, she began to cry even more. Sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier, I'm sorry I left you hungry. I wanted so much to come, but I couldn't. Sorry.

The shriveled leaves fell apart in their palms as they touched them. Dozens of potted violets, which were reproduced from a fresh leaf, responded to light with shoots and conversations with flowers, gave up on life. He ran and brought a jug of water from the kitchen. He watered them one by one to revive a hidden exile, an unyielding hope. Flowers were not like people, they could sometimes come back when they were gone. 

It was settled on the right armrest of the chair in the corner, with three strands of white hair on the dark green wool vest that he had never taken off his back in three of the four seasons. He used to say that when people get old, their bones get cold. They had tried to take him to the hospital, and they had hardly convinced him that it would not be necessary. Well, he said, too. Let alone against the TV and the picture of your father. I'll wear it back.

He put on the vest, taking care not to dislodge the strands of hair, and sat down on the armchair. He just looked at the picture on the TV. They specifically hung it there, that's how he wanted it. He told his father about everything he watched and loved to chat face to face. What were they doing together now? Maybe they were watching their favorite black and white Turkish films on huge screens without needing glasses while sipping their honeyed water in thin porcelain cups, and then chatting with the actors and directors of those films. Maybe he, his father and Ayhan Işık were in the shadow of a never-dying plane tree now. He wished right on the left side of his chest that there were dark shady plane trees there.

He jumped when the bell rang. His mind was blank for a moment, as if suddenly awakened from a dark dream, unable to make out where he was. He looked around. He came to his senses when he saw the violets lying on the ground. It must have been his brother. The fact that she would open the door for him eased her heart. Even if it dwindled over time, it had to have doors that everyone knew would open when stolen.

He wrapped it tightly in his vest. He pressed the automatic and called down. Pleasant geldiiiin !

*****3*****

Back From My Murder - Selçuk Karadağ - Kirpi Literature and Think Magazine

When did this happen? So when was my death? The body bag lying on the ground was noticed by a garbage man next to Kocatepe Mosque at 05:35 in the morning, how black is the body bag in which my body was placed. Next to my body bag is a