TE16 Turkish Delight

Burhan Sönmez find the source of the sound. I know that when I remove one of those cogs the clock will stop and the sound will cease. Which cog is it? I sip my wine and take a deep breath. On top of the cogs, a rectangular piece of metal with screws on all four corners holds all the pieces together. I undo all four screws. I remove the rectangular piece of metal. I place the screws and the piece of metal on one of the black squares on the table. I must be a bit of a handyman. My fingers are skillful with the screwdriver. Perhaps I repair my own guitars too, doing everything from changing the guitar magnets to adjusting the neck. It’s not as difficult as deciphering the cogs in the clock. Time in the cogs both moves forward and goes round and round in the same place. If I could figure out how that’s possible I might be able to figure out life too. Why does the pain of a crucifixion from two thousand years ago continue to this day? Why does the throbbing in my rib come from deep down, as though it’s the continuation of an old pain? I think of Hayala’s words: There’s a difference between the past and history. While everyone is trying to give you a past, what they’re actually giving you is a history. In the former everything is alive, in the latter it’s dead. Yes but how can I tell the two apart? If I asked my doctor she would prescribe new medicines. If I asked Bek he would look at me with concern. If I asked Hayala she would kiss me. If I asked my sister she would say, I miss you. I miss her too, but I don’t know what it is that I miss. I feel sleepy. It’s as though someone is dimming the lights. Dark water pours into the empty space in my mind. I rest my head on the table. I close my eyes. Springs, coils, screws. One of the cogs isn’t turning properly. I don’t know which. If I try changing one cog, they’ll all stop.

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