That summer day we took Gunk to the Sirkeci Station, I had no idea how hard it would be to learn about men, you had to have known quite a few of them. Nor did I know that you had to like yourself first, if ever you were to be happy.

Nowadays, I'm jealous of no one. There's no house I long for, no boulevard either. I can live anywhere. Anywhere except our own house, hemmed in by all those shanties. Not for a single night could I stay there. Has this thought ever occurred to you? Can you ever see a dead person again? Or go to a dead school? Or sleep in a dead house? Those years are dead. They had us spend those years preparing us for their demise.

No one mentions that life is none other than the days, nights and seasons through which we pass.

Nothing's changed. Oh, to part the clouds, seize the sun, and run with these children across the hills and forests, through wind, sun, rain to a place where we can breathe.

Thoughts of death case after me. Day and night, I think about killing myself. My reasons unclear. To carry on with life, or to die-- either will do. A vague disquiet, nothing more. Troubled thoughts, pushing me toward giving suicide a try.