I, the Dust

Aug 27, 2025

I am dust. Very small and barely noticeable, but I exist. Once, I was a mountain. Not the whole mountain, of course—just a speck of it. But a mountain is made of countless specks, as numerous as the stars in the sky. And still, can’t we call a speck of the...

The Scent of Sumac

Jun 15, 2025

In the old part of Izmir, where the shutters were painted turquoise, however, they never quite closed, Aunt Somaia’s kitchen was always warm. Not warm like the afternoon sun that fell from the red tiles onto the streets, but warm in the way a secret is warm when held too long in the mouth.

A Voice Died Inside Me

May 11, 2025

No one truly understands that death doesn’t always arrive with a scream. Sometimes, it slips quietly into an unfinished sentence, into the trace of a smile that never quite leaves the lips, or into the silent passing beside a wall that no longer holds any color....

Kabul, too, was not happy

Apr 21, 2025

Kabul, too, was not happy… The weather had become bitterly cold. It was mid-November, and as the saying goes, we were nearing the forty-day winter period. The cold wind blew, and yellow, red, orange, brown, and even colors whose names might not exist—or...

My Beautiful Dream: Being a Girl Should Not Be a Crime!

Mar 8, 2025

Women are human too!   Since childhood, living as a girl and a woman in my country has brought many challenges. I have always tasted the bitter humiliation of being a girl.   We have always been told: “You can’t do this because...

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