Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

SŞeyma Koç

was having bath in this room. She probably only drew the curtain at that time, which I never see drawn... She was quite fat. There was a beauty mark touching her smile when her lips curled up. She was using fragrant face powders on her cheeks. Her glances were impish. Her very short hairs were black. She was carrying her laced headscarf on her wide shoulders, until she came across a man in a shopping district... She had a husband. She had a husband, but it was like she didn’t have a husband. Aunt Şehriban could tell that he had a mistress. He was leaving and wasn’t coming back for days. When he arrived his dimness was more than a shadow. He was bringing a few package from stores, staying maybe one or two days, giving her some money and leaving her again. Mainly he was gone! We never saw him. And she didn’t lose her goodwill. She hugged all the hope, as she hugged her son. Berdeşan, a fat boy with a voice similar to a girl’s voice… I was bound to Aunt Şehriban deeply. I wish to see everything as she sees it. My talking was unceasingly and I had a great eager mouthful of questions because of this. Sometimes when I would tell her something, , I lost my consciousness and forgot why I began to tell her. She was laughing. She was laughing adorably! She was speaking brightly and distinctly. Our language was the same; but she had thin and long sentences.


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