The silence of snow, thought the man sitting just behind the bus driver. If this were the beginning of a poem, he would have called the thing he felt inside him the silence of snow.
He'd boarded the bus from Erzurum to Kars with only seconds to spare. He'd just come into the station on a bus from Istanbul-a snowy, stormy, two-day journey-and was rushing up and down the dirty wet corridors with his bag in tow, looking for his connection, when someone told him the bus for Kars was leaving immediately.
He'd managed to find it, an ancient Magirus, but the conductor had just shut the luggage compartment and, being "in a hurry," refused to open it again. That's why our traveler had taken his bag on board with him; the big dark-red Bally valise was now wedged between his legs. He was sitting next to the window and wearing a thick charcoal coat he'd bought at a Frankfurt Kaufhof five years earlier. We should note straightaway that this soft, downy beauty of a coat would cause him shame and disquiet during the days he was to spend in Kars, while also furnishing a sense of security.
As soon as the bus set off, our traveler glued his eyes to the window next to him; perhaps hoping to see something new, he peered into the wretched little shops and bakeries and broken-down coffeehouses that lined the streets of Erzurum's outlying suburbs, and as he did it began to snow. It was heavier and thicker than the snow he'd seen between Istanbul and Erzurum. If he hadn't been so tired, if he'd paid a bit more attention to the snowflakes swirling out of the sky like feathers, he might have realized that he was traveling straight into a blizzard; he might have seen at the start that he was setting out on a journey that would change his life forever and chosen to turn back.
But the thought didn't even cross his mind. As evening fell, he lost himself in the light still lingering in the sky above; in the snowflakes whirling ever more wildly in the wind he saw nothing of the impending blizzard but rather a promise, a sign pointing the way back to the happiness and purity he had known, once, as a child. Our traveler had spent his years of happiness and childhood in Istanbul; he'd returned a week ago, for the first time in twelve years, to attend his mother's funeral, and having stayed there four days he decided to take this trip to Kars. Years later, he would still recall the extraordinary beauty of the snow that night; the happiness it brought him was far greater than any he'd known in Istanbul. He was a poet and, as he himself had written-in an early poem still largely unknown to Turkish readers-it snows only once in our dreams.
As he watched the snow fall outside his window, as slowly and silently as the snow in a dream, the traveler fell into a long-desired, long-awaited reverie; cleansed by memories of innocence and childhood, he succumbed to optimism and dared to believe himself at home in this world. Soon afterward, he felt something else that he had not known for quite a long time and fell asleep in his seat.
About the Author...
Ferit Orhan Pamuk (generally known simply as Orhan Pamuk; born 7 June 1952) is a Turkish novelist, screenwriter, academic and recipient of the 2006 Nobel Prize in Literature. One of Turkey's most prominent novelists, his work has sold over thirteen million books in sixty-three languages, making him the country's best-selling writer.
The Homecoming
The Silence of Snow talks about his journey on his way back home to attend his motherâs funeral. As he had his journey he then remembered the happiness and purity he had known, once as a child. Our lifestyle may be changed but the happiness we once had from home will never be forgotten. In short... âNothing really feels like homeâ
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This poem shows how we probably think. Taking every opportunity and making the most of what is to be had. The past will not make the future but the actions of the present.
"People do the wrong things for the right reasons"
This is what Ive relected from the exerpt entitled "safe house"
We all do things with reasons behind them. Not only to keep the ones we love in the dark but to keep them safe from the possible effects. I consider this as lying, but if the intention is to keep a loved one safe from the consequences of your actions then thats up to you.
âWhy canât we love ourselves for the way we really are?â
       From the story âThe Good Bodyâ by Eve Ensler talks about how the society today change the mind set and the standards of being a woman, wherein the standard of beauty around the world tends to lean toward fair skin, western features and thin bodies. In this case, it resulted in women opted for skin whitening creams, plastic surgery and damaging eating disorder.
       Why is there always something about ourselves that we wish to change? Well personally I donât think that there is something wrong if you want to have a good image or a better image yet what makes it wrong is that if it reaches the point that you are already torturing yourself just to fit in to the standards of the society. My point is you donât have to sacrifice and suffer just to please everyone, if you like to eat then go eat as many as you can. Donât allow yourself to starve just to have a thin body. Everyone should learn how to love themselves for who they really are.
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This Song⌠Holds a very special place in my heart. But more importantly we found the message of the song very relatable to the drama entitled âwaitingâ
The story is about how a mother had to migrate for the life of her child and now that her son has finally moved to her home away from home. Her sacrifices are for her child and his future.
Keeping your trueself is like making coffee, Having to much will not only make the coffe of balance but it will just make it not be as effective. On the other hand having to little will just make the mixture so concentrated that some wont like the taste. How is this related to being yourself?? look at it this way, in life you are the coffee and the world, experiences, and people are the water. We have the choice to have the right amount of crazy in our lives. Yet we shouldnt over do it. To make this clear, the people and our surroundings can help other people judge us. But our true selves hare but hidden within us, people even die with out getting to know who they really are.
