Still...

I'm still waiting. Waiting like Forest Gump in the bench of the bus station. The buses come. They stop. They honk and go. People come, set, speak and go. They speak, we speak, you speak, we laugh, we cry, I cry, they cry. They take a bus and go. I stand up, follow the bus a little, and then I remember that I have an important thing to do. I'm waiting. Waiting for a miracle to come and can't find me in the bench of the bus station.


I'm still waiting. It shouldn't remain like this. It shouldn't be spent this way. There should be a change. It must find its way among these too many earthen ways, among these too many correct and wrong tableaus, among these too many colorful buses. That happening, that miracle must come, must comes and changes things, me and my life. You see? Change no; exchange. miracle exchanges, converts. It converts rods to dragons and seas to deserts. I don't want any helps. I don't want any prescriptions and plans. I want that miracle. What if god sent a boat for Moses instead of that miracle? Of course I'm not Moses, and there is no pharaoh's corps behind me. But my problem can be solved just by that miracle.


I… I'm unsatisfied. A complainant. I complain. I nag. I want more, like Oliver Twist, I'm not satisfied with a single scoop of that watery soup. I'm different. I'm different even from Oliver Twist. I want more, I want the miracle. I look at the horizon and I can't see the truck; I'm looking for the truth and I can't hear its honks. The truck passes on me and I'm thinking what a density has this red hot fluid and how properly I can fill the blanks of the street. It shouldn't remain this way. It must change. And I'm ready, ready to…ready for…I'm ready to wait for it in perpetuity.


I look at my palms. I can see myself through those bold lines. I'm still waiting, old and dodderer, on that very bench, on that very station; still waiting. I look at my watch now and then. (There are no hands in my watch; it shows just dates.) It's a long time that no bus stops in the station. It's a long time that no one sets in the station. It's such a long time that the only thing which is remaining is my bench in the station. I look at the horizon and I'm sure…I'm sure that she will come someday.

Father

Son: what is history?
Grandfather: all the things which happened in the past is history.
Son: yesterday that we went to the zoo was history?
Grandfather: no, because it wasn't important.
Son: is my father's date of death history?
Grandfather: no.
Son: but he was important to me.

Baraka

Have you ever felt this? That out of the blue, the world and all living moments within it stop in front of your eyes? Have you? What did you do toward that goddamn moment? That goddamn feeling? I'm wondering these days. Actually I care too much and it's bad and I know it, but I can't resist cuz it persists! Days come without any discipline and go. I think I got this disease after watching that goddamn documentary. Oh god, I'm dog-tired. What am I doing? What happen to my picture-perfect life? Now the only thing that I can attach myself to is the feeling of the beginning of a happening…now, I don't know where I am! Do I see things in the time of their happening or in the time of expecting them to happen? But I get the point, you know… no matter how hard I try to ignore it…no matter how hard I try to close my eyes to it…but it's real…that is to say we, the human beings, try hopelessly to link ourselves to the past or to the future, but you see, we just making a cocoon cuz we're weak to see and grasp the present time.
The only thing that I must do is to pretend that everything is all right. I know I can do it; I know cuz I'm doing it throughout these years; pretending.
It's easy.




*the name of this silly entry is the name of that spectacular documentary which speaks to my mind and soul. Don't think that your experience of watching that is the same that I had! Its effect is somehow like the effect of the film About Elli. Trust me! I question those who watched it!