Page 20 - Annonce 5
P. 20

COTTON CANDY







        I would paint the world in shades of nothingness,  tightly as possible, so scared of falling down,
        if I had the power to. I would have turned the  from the carousel.
        hourglass,  if I had  the  chance.  I would stop
        watching the world, as a spectator, behind the  Where is that pink, heart shaped balloon that I
        curtains, if I could. However, there was never an  was holding onto with my life so that it wouldn’t

        opportunity, never a chance given to me. There  fly away on its own, leaving me behind, all alone.
        was  nothing I could  do but wait for another
        sunrise, another sunrise with no meaning to it,    I  would have  eaten  that  cotton candy  more
        with no destination in life, and with a splitting  leisurely, if I knew it was my last time, I would
        soul, wonder about what could have happened?  have enjoyed every bit of it but little did I know
        If  I  weren’t  shackled  to  the  ground,  if  my  that the concept of time was this mercilessly

        wings weren’t to be cut down. What would have  accelerated.
        become of me? If I were to be as free as I was
        supposed to be.                                                                             Doğa Özaydın


        Sometimes I look back to the past, not the past
        that I have always ran away from, but the one
        that contains the memories of my bitter sweet
        childhood.  The  immemorial souvenirs  of me
        looking at cotton candies with mesmerized eyes
        and  flushed  cheeks,  the  times  where  my  only

        worries were bruised knees and the nights that
        I told my mom to leave the lights on after every
        goodnight  kiss,  the  stories  she  told,  sweeter
        than the apples she clumsily peeled, the roses
        of all colors, those roses that I rived not giving
        a damn about its thorns, and ran into my mom’s
        arms without a care in this world, then handed

        her  the  flowers  in  my  bleeding  hands  just  to
        see that beautiful smile of hers, just to receive
        a fatuous compliment.


        What happened to those roses? Did they fade
        away just like the gleam of my eyes?
        Also, there are also the olden times that I held
        my dad’s hands at the funfair, scared of losing
        him, so inanely. The times that I hugged him as

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