1.09.2015

To all those seagulls in Bosphorus from Ankara

I am sitting at the bar. The girl next to me is an idiot. She is idiot but her naiveté is in any case adorable. She tells all those stories about her kitchen. She shows me a photo of a tent she stayed this summer, it looks like an Indian tent. She says the area, the woods, the sea, the silence was definitely like Thailand. I dunno nothing about it. I mean I am well far away from the far East. I am a man of the old once civilized but currently barbaric land. She would not get it. So I stop talking but offer a gentle smile. She turns it back. We kiss goodbye to each other.

Then my mind wanders about another one. Things are so hazy and smokey, damn many cigarettes were lit that evening. She did not reply me. I guess she does not even hate me. All that injures my pretty fucking narcissism indeed, I gotta confess. I like especially her mind, as if there is some weird connection between us, I even tried to articulate that but she gives damn neither about me nor about my writing. It most probably sounds like a cheap romantic letter of a loser, after all. I understand her. I definitely do.  


Then I dream. I daydream about all those sea gulls behind and beside me. Who knows, may be, they are floating somewhere in Bosphorus. 

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