a tuesday evening in istanbul.

I am at a cafe, by the sea, in Istanbul. I find myself in a rather interesting conversation. One of those you have with yourself. With your inner mind, let’s say:

“This is life.”

A playful tune fills the air.

Jazz.

I feel the vibes penetrating through my skin, into my heart. The saxophone, I think, what an enchanting instrument.

My tea finally arrives and as a take a sip, I start to watch the people around me.

Every single person is thinking about something. As they speak, they withhold their thoughts. Thoughts you and I will never find out about. Scary, isn’t it?

I continue my conversation. “Who am I?” I start to wonder. “Inside all these people, inside millions of trillions of thoughts, do mine really matter? Do I really matter?”

I suddenly feel selfish.

I feel bewitched by my subconscious universe. I consist of colorful thought balloons that no one cares to see.

I witness jubilation. People are enjoying a fancy breakfast with their beloved family and friends. What more could they ask for?

I savor observing grown-ups mainly because I get a sense of what is waiting for me after I finish school.

I cannot help but wonder what their grades were like in high school. Were all these people straight A-students? They cannot all be ivy league alumni, can they? But they are still blissful and able to afford a satisfying breakfast next to a brilliant view.

This encourages me to question my future.

Am I obliged to go to a prestigious college in order to live the so told happily ever after?

I conclude my conversation with a final thought:

Istanbul is beautiful, I say.

Life is beautiful.

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