Book contents
- Frontmatter
- Dedication
- Contents
- Death Begins with the Loss of Our Cities…
- Are You Going to Be a Killer?
- An Idea Whose Time Has Come
- Your Decision
- Dogs Smelling Blood on a Hunt
- The Meaning of This Empire for Us
- Confronting Death
- The Ancient Wound
- The Essence of the State
- Becoming the Hunted
- Like Two Wistful Flowers
- The World's Greatest Mystery
- The Love That Will Never Fade
- What Does a Single Individual Matter?
- A Game of Revenge
- The Motherland Is Lost
- The Only Thing Keeping Me Alive
- No Intention of Surrendering
- A Man's Word Is His Honour
- An Inappropriate Sense of Compassion
- A Token of a Conversation
- I Am Not the One to Decide
- Miracles
- The Ability to Forgive Ourselves
- Losing One's Humanity
- No Choice But to Fight
- Give Me an Honourable Death
- The Walking Dead
- Save Yourself, Soldier
- Wishing for Help from the Dead
- Resign, Your Excellency!
- A False Sense of Security
- The True Power in the Land
- Betrothed to Life, Married to Death
- When the Wolf Dies in the Forest
- This Is Not Ankara
- Vultures Circling Over an Old Man
- Ignoble Alliances
- A Betrayal of Their Own History
- Fighting for a Lost Cause
- Evil Stalks This Land
- A Malevolent Rain
- A Fragmented Homeland, a Disintegrating World
- Turning Us All into Killers
- When I Began Losing My Country
- Farewell, My Beautiful Homeland
- Glossary
Confronting Death
- Frontmatter
- Dedication
- Contents
- Death Begins with the Loss of Our Cities…
- Are You Going to Be a Killer?
- An Idea Whose Time Has Come
- Your Decision
- Dogs Smelling Blood on a Hunt
- The Meaning of This Empire for Us
- Confronting Death
- The Ancient Wound
- The Essence of the State
- Becoming the Hunted
- Like Two Wistful Flowers
- The World's Greatest Mystery
- The Love That Will Never Fade
- What Does a Single Individual Matter?
- A Game of Revenge
- The Motherland Is Lost
- The Only Thing Keeping Me Alive
- No Intention of Surrendering
- A Man's Word Is His Honour
- An Inappropriate Sense of Compassion
- A Token of a Conversation
- I Am Not the One to Decide
- Miracles
- The Ability to Forgive Ourselves
- Losing One's Humanity
- No Choice But to Fight
- Give Me an Honourable Death
- The Walking Dead
- Save Yourself, Soldier
- Wishing for Help from the Dead
- Resign, Your Excellency!
- A False Sense of Security
- The True Power in the Land
- Betrothed to Life, Married to Death
- When the Wolf Dies in the Forest
- This Is Not Ankara
- Vultures Circling Over an Old Man
- Ignoble Alliances
- A Betrayal of Their Own History
- Fighting for a Lost Cause
- Evil Stalks This Land
- A Malevolent Rain
- A Fragmented Homeland, a Disintegrating World
- Turning Us All into Killers
- When I Began Losing My Country
- Farewell, My Beautiful Homeland
- Glossary
Summary
Good Evening, Ester (Evening, Day 2)
Now I understand. A writer's wish to be left alone in a hotel room so that he can work on his masterpiece without disruption is an impossible wish. Every day, indeed, almost every hour, I am disturbed by some new incident. This time it was caused by a gentleman at my door claiming to have forgotten his room number. I heard the jangling of keys in my keyhole and so I got up and opened the door. Standing there was a rather stout gentleman trying to open the door to my room. When I asked him why, he said he had made a mistake and that he had got the floors mixed up. I glanced down at the number on the key in his hand. It was room 310, whilst mine is 410, which meant his room was the one directly beneath mine.
‘My apologies’, he said sheepishly. ‘I must have had a little too much of that Italian wine this afternoon.’
Of course, I did not fall for it. He was with them. With the police, who are keeping an eye on me while I am cooped up in here. You see, I did not leave the hotel today and so they must have been wondering whether I was still in my room or not. Let them. I couldn't care less. I played along with the man, however, and accepted his apology. Indeed, to appear even more convincing, I said, ‘Perhaps a nice, strong cup of Turkish coffee after so much wine would have helped you remember where your room is.’ He apologised once again and walked away but by then, my sense of comfort as well as my desire to write had vanished. I stepped out onto the balcony and into a spectacular evening. The sun setting slowly over the banks of the Golden Horn glittered in the windows around the city, bathing the whole of Istanbul in a honey-coloured light.
The street was its usual flurry of activity. For some, the day was ending, while for others, life was only just beginning. I felt a huge urge to go out, to see people heading back to their homes, to bump into the pleasure-seekers streaming on to Independence Street.
- Type
- Chapter
- Information
- Farewell, My Beautiful Homeland , pp. 53 - 66Publisher: Anthem PressPrint publication year: 2019