They say the first snow is like your first love, magical, unforgettable, and a little dramatic. Do you remember your first snow?
I grew up in a city where snow was a myth, a rumor at best. One day, we experienced what I can only describe as snow-like precipitation. Excited, we rushed outside, scraped together every flake we could find off car roofs, and brought it home. My masterpiece? A tiny snowman the size of a little dog. I went to bed proud.
The next morning, I ran to see my snowman. Tragedy! All that remained was a puddle of water, a sad olive, and a sliver of carrot. It was like a crime scene from a veggie noir.
Years later, I moved to Ankara for university. That's when I saw real snow for the first time. The night it fell, our dorm transformed into a chaos of excited students from the Aegean region. We ran outside, screaming like kids, throwing snowballs, and laughing under the streetlights. It was magical.
Sure, every snowfall since has been beautiful, but nothing quite matches the naive thrill of that first snowy night. It's like a one-hit wonder, no sequel could ever compete.
Struggling, pushing as hard as I can, that's what life is, to me. It begins with a cry, finds peace in breathlessness, and the in-between is all effort. I'm tired of fighting, worn out by living. I say I have no purpose left. Alright, sit down, take a breath. Coasting downhill is easy, but can we rest a moment before climbing up again? Sure, but life slips away right there, in the spaces between. We have to keep pushing. We have to believe. In ourselves, in a stranger, in family, maybe a god or many, if needed.
I think that's something you admired in me, this relentless struggle. And I think you're the one I trust most in that struggle. Shadows cloud my mind, but I've seen the proof, when I fight, something happens. Yet here I am, doubting. Time? Take all you need. But anyone who cries out about their burden must have come to love it, right? Just like those worn-out sweatpants, the spot where you sit has also given way. Isn't it harder to imagine moving toward me?
I keep calling you, so the fire in you doesn't cool. The water's beautiful here, and I'll be fine, promise. Just dip your feet in, at least. I might be confused, but I'll keep pushing. Keep going, I love you, Gülhan.
My head aches so deeply that even the skies offer no relief. Clouds, those clouds, the cure for my sorrows...
Meet Bowie, the kattencafé cat with a name as legendary as David Bowie himself! This furry little cream-lover has a radar for anything topped with whipped delight. The moment he spots someone sipping on a hot chocolate, he's on the prowl, hoping to sneak a taste of that fluffy cream topping. But his true passion? Appeltaart cream! It's his ultimate weakness. Tested and approved 🐱