Broken Mirror

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: Sep 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201374013

Book preview

*****one*****

Cereal and Peanut - Oggito

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Ece, who prefers to travel by train in an air where the nuts are left to dry and even the ants are taking a break from working, goes outside contentedly in her seat. was watching. In all the images flowing through the window, nature offered Ece all its generosity. He wanted to freeze every frame. Camera in hand, he was trying to capture whatever was going on right next to him. When he went to the workshop, he would somehow reflect the colors and shapes on the canvas... Maybe he could also paint the paintings he was looking forward to for the new exhibition of the gallery, who knows... He smiled to himself for a moment. They called her the woman who makes the colors speak. In fact, after his last exhibition, a reporter said, There is music in his paintings. It's like every color is a musical note... Awesome! he wrote. Dancing with brushes, the young painter had a distinctive scent of success. Did he want more, like every successful person? Why or who could he give up for this? Didn't he go on this journey for answers?

Just as he was looking for answers to these silent questions, he came face to face with the girl sitting on the opposite sofa as if she was clinging to her mother. He was no more than five or six years old. She was standing in front of her with her curly hair carelessly gathered and her discolored dress well-behaved. If he hadn't put his feet on top of each other, maybe his worn out shoes, which were too big for him, would not have attracted attention. He was watching her with all his attention. This woman, with her straw hat, green-rimmed glasses, red hair, her dress that seems to have been dyed, with the machine in her hand, looking pensive like still water; The boy looked as if he had come from another time. Kids that age think the same about any woman who doesn't look like their mother. The pose of the little girl, whose big brown eyes did not take her away from her even for a moment, her top-dressed, curly hair, calmness, and gaze were familiar to Ece. But from where, when, from what pale picture, from what sad memory, from what poverty and unhappiness? One summer's day about twenty years ago, the journey he had taken with his family vaguely came to life in his mind. He seemed to remember...

***

Unhappiness and poverty cannot be hidden. You can't leave it behind, you can't run away like that; It comes out of a place, sits in the middle of your life or catches you just when you say it's over..

Perhaps the most difficult thing for Aysel in her motherhood was explaining the lack of money to her children. Asking Yellow Yakup and curly Ece to accept this absence like himself... Whichever language he uses is inadequate, whatever language he uses is a futile effort...

The worst thing about living in the cute little town with its streets smelling of citrus was enduring the summer heat. The weather here seemed to be otherwise warm. The kind that dries the inside and the outside of a person... Only Aysel should have been looking forward to the coming of this season. The only time he could see his mother. It's the only season he can go to the city that smells of the bay. Despite all the difficulties, this journey was worth everything. A little escape, a little salvation...

They had got up early that morning to catch the train. Since there were no numbers on the tickets, they would have to take a seat on the train. Otherwise, they would have spent several hours standing in this sweltering weather. The train station was in the center and they had a road to walk to get there. They would get more crispy. Aysel took the cheap Tulum cheese out of the fridge, which she bought from the market yesterday and put in a plastic container. He was always thinking about such things in the evening. He always thinks about what he will do the next day... Fast as a flea, too fast as necessary... Why did he gain so much weight despite these features? He sighed vaguely. Sometimes she thought back to the days when she rode a bike in Kos as a young girl . With her tall, slender waist, shapely legs, straight breasts, and long black hair, she used to float through the streets... Time had bent her body and soul...

Or that state of anxiety that comes into your personality uninvited. Fear stuck in his gaze... The phrase that lingers on his tongue no matter what he does: Şevket gets angry. Instead of being sad as a mother when one of the children falls, the senseless panic he gets by saying, What am I going to say to Şevket now?

"Why is the soup so hot?'

"Why is this dress short?

"Where have you been all day?

"Did you go to the market without me knowing?

Didn't I say this woman won't come here?

That's Sevket... Always questioning, always criticizing, always angry, always sad, always crying, always always ...

To live incompletely, to count the three cents she earned from tailoring in her husband's hand, to the loneliness within herself, to be present like a soldier, to fatigue, to the pressure of the mother-in-law; was taking it all. She was the island girl. Durable happens Island sometime between the girls ... my husband Gelgelel procedural method did not exceed the wall sometimes noisy rising lovelessness. When was the last time Şevket smiled at him or said a nice sentence? It used to be, long ago...

His mother had warned him at first.

Bre Aysel, bre my daughter, you will go to the sullen man as a beautiful man. This man's face is not smiling. He was right again, the woman who knows everything. This blue-eyed man, who looks like a famous actor, whom she married with great love; When he was with his wife, he was like a judge who questioned everything. He looked grumpy, restless, angry; both to himself, to children and to life...

Şevket did not want his wife to travel alone. He was too free with his mother. It wouldn't. She should always feel the pressure of her husband; It shouldn't be that comfortable. Did he really love her or did he know how to love a woman? According to him, he had a woman. He was ruled like a king. She stood behind the man and did not object to anything. Aysel sometimes crossed her limit, causing problems in her eyes. What about kids? He loved them as long as they were good. As much as his father loved him...

***

When they reached the station, which is the symbol of the town, they began to look for a place to wait in the crowd waiting for the train. I wish they weren't lined up like a stack of fish on the wagon this time . How did the price of bus tickets increase? In the so-called news, they said inflation was low. nonsense!

This crowd was fun for Ece. He watched people with curious eyes, looking for a closeness and acquaintance in his own way. He would look, see this little girl. Ordinary things that no one paid attention to, conversations, meetings, sitting, walking, and sights attracted his attention. He watched his thick-lipped teacher, the sullen canteen, the grocer's uncle who sometimes frightens him with his looks, the neighbors who come and don't know how to leave, the women his mother sews clothes, his aunt who talks a lot, the other children he can't make friends with, his wealthy relatives who look down on them, their smiling mothers, their calm fathers, their happy families. He listened to everything, everyone. Sometimes he would paint the sounds as he wanted or as they are...

He pictured actions and even conversations in his mind. It is not known whether every sound had a color or not. His voice should have been blue, since his mother was an Islander. His father is black. Because he had a dark side to him. His hard-working brother is green. I will be a soldier, he snapped. He did not know the color of his own voice. Maybe he didn't have a voice... He was an astonishingly quiet child. When he didn't speak until he was four, his mother took him to the doctor. However, this state of being silent was a choice. So no one was yelling at him. He didn't even say what he wanted. His father was angry, and his