TE16 Turkish Delight

Labyrinth other words, with an ample past. And then nostalgia takes over from utopia. I don’t have those things. I have neither utopia nor nostalgia. Does that mean I can be considered dead, or am I some kind of solitary living species? Boratin…Boratin… I turn at the sound of Bek’s voice. Are you all right, he says, you drifted off. It’s only then that I realize I was talking to myself. I’m fine, I say, I was engrossed in those lovely drawings on the wall. The more I look at them the further away they seem. It’s turned cloudy, says Bek, it’s got dark early, that’s why the drawings give you that impression. Are those rain clouds, I ask. I think so, he says, this time it’s really going to rain. It’s the first time I’ve seen clouds so close up, I say. If I go up to the rooftop I’ll be able to touch them. If it rains I don’t know what I have to do, should I stay here, or should I go inside? When it rains wait for a bit, he says, get a feel for what it is and then go inside. Otherwise you’ll get drenched. Watching the rain from inside, from the window, is nice too. Do you know something Boratin, you wrote a great song about rain. It can be the opening number at the concert this weekend, we can sing your song. Bek looks at my face and waits for my reaction. There’s no point in looking at me, I say, I don’t remember the song. I’m sure it’s a song with minor defects hidden inside it. Why do you say that Boratin, it would never occur to anyone to pick holes in your songs. If you listened to it now you’d see how mistaken you are. Shall I sing it to you? No, don’t, I say, I’ll find bits where the lyrics don’t fit the music and I’ll get into a mood. Bek doesn’t understand why I said that. He doesn’t insist. I’d better go, he says, or I’ll be late for the


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