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469

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Until Feb 20th, 2009 this work's ('d) been featured by:

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The English version of the story of this work is below the Turkish...
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Başı yere bakarak, küçücük adımlarla hızlı hızlı yürüyor, birşeyler mırıldanıyordu... Siyah ceketinin vatkaları çıkmıştı, bacakları siyah pantolonundan görülüyordu, kirlenmişti, yagmur yemişti, kurumuştu, kavrulmuştu, tekrar ıslanmıştı, ayakkabısı parça parçaydı ama boyalıydı, gömlegi artık beyaz degildi, neredeyse teninin rengiydi, ama düzgündü, astarı çıkmış siyah bir papyonu vardı...

“469”, diyordu herhalde, tek tük kalmış üst ve alt dişleri birbirine dokunacak kadar
yakındı mırıldanırken, dudakları pul pul dökülecek gibiydi:
“469, 469, 469, 469..”

Yemyeşil gözlerinin çevresi kipkırmızıydı, durmadan göz kırpıştırıyordu, gözlerini sıkip açıyordu, başını onaylarcasına ileri geri sallıyordu, kaldırımda yürürken sağa, oradaki restore edilip gençlik merkezi olmuş hallere, sonra da elindekine bakip bir anda güldü, yere bakip eliyle ağzını kapattı, muzurluk yapmış bir çocuk gibi gülmeye devam etti. Yine de söylemeye devam ediyordu:
“469, 469, 469, 469, 469..”

Saçları omuzlarına değecek gibiydi, karmakarışıktı, yüzü uzun, kaşları düşük, gözleri kocamandı, burnu uzun, ince, kemerliydi, yüzünde hâlâ deminki gülümsemenin soluk izleri vardı, elindekine baktı, gözleri parladı, daha da hızlandı, yere sürttüğü ayağı batan güneşin ışıkları altında küçük toz bulutları yaratıyordu.

Hemen önce geçtiği köşenin ardından 4 adam çıktı,
“Amına koduğumun dölü burada işte, YAKALAYIN!”

469! 469! 469! 469!!

Arkasına baktı, gözleri faltaşı gibi açıldı, kolunu bükmüşler gibi acıyla inleyip delice koşmaya başladı, adamların gözü dönmüştü, ikisinin elinde sopa vardı, arkasından kovalıyorlardı, insanlara çarparak aralarından kaçmaya çalışıyordu, yolun karşısına koşarken bir araba çarptı, kendi etrafında döndü, tökezledi, yere düştü, kalktı, yolun karşı tarafına dizilmiş faytonları çeken atlardan birine çarptı, at ürkup şaha kalktı, yanındaki at ta, dengesini kaybetti, yüzü faytona çarptı, kanlar boşandı burnundan, gömleği kipkırmızı oldu, kalktı, adamlar caddeyi geçmek üzereydi, gözlerindeki yaşlar kanına karıştı, zil çalarak kapanan hemzemin geçidin üzerine koştu, karşıdaki apartmanlardan birinin camına baktı, camda kızını görür gibi oldu, ayağı raya takıldı, yere kapaklandı, dizleri üzerinde doğruldu ve o anda omzunda delice bir acı duydu. Adamlardan biri sopayı var gücüyle sağ kulağına, oradan omzuna indirmişti.

“Kırdın mı orospu çocuğu, kırdın mı!!!”

“469!!!” Kulağından, burnundan kanlar akıyordu, ellerinden birini başının üstüne kaldırdı, başını geri çevirip kocaman korkmuş gözlerle adamın gözlerinin içine baktı.

“469, yaa, 469 tabii! Orospu kızın bile alamaz!

Gözü döndü bir anda, ayağa uçarcasına kalkip, elindeki kırmızıya bakan kemanı son gücüyle adamın yüzünde paraladı, adam yere düştü, bunu gören diğer adam elindeki sopayla aynı kulağına tekrar çaktı sopayı.
Sanki uçacakmış gibi bir hareket yaptı, bir saniyenin yarısı kadar havada kaldı ve kullanılmayan raylardan birinin üzerine düştü, yüzü şimşek gibi raya çarptı... Gözleri karardı... Kızının yaşadığı apartmana bakamıyordu...
Son kez açtı gözlerini, insanları gördü koprüde, rayı, sonsuza giden vagonları...
Kızına keman çalacaktı penceresinin altından, bebekken keman çalarak uyuturdu onu, hatırlardı belki... Belki hâlâ...
Ağzından kan akarken, batan güneşin ışıkları, vagonların üstünden, parlayan gözlerini kamaştırdı,
hafifçe gülümsedi ve başını oynattığı anda, kırık boynu hayatına son verdi... Gözleri kapanamadı...
Karısının, kucağında kızıyla kendisini 27 yil once, İstanbul’a uğurladığı Eskişehir İstasyonuna bakakaldı...



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Looking down, walking fast with baby steps, murmuring something... The waddings of his black jacket were visible from the torn shoulders, as were his legs from his black trousers, dirtied, soaked to the skin, dried up, parched, scorched, got wet again, shoes were in tatters yet painted, shirt was not white, not anymore, almost the color of his skin, but looked straight, with a black bow tie, linings everywhere...

He probably was murmuring "469", his upper and lower teeth were close to each other almost hitting themselves, his meaty lips were flaky, almost like torn to pieces:

"469, 469, 469, 469..."

The rims of his wonderful green eyes were reddened, twinkling, closing and opening forcefully, his head was nodding back and forth like affirming something, when walking on the sidewalk, he looked right, to the covered market restored to become a youth culture center which he didn't care, looked at what was in his hand and looked down to the sidewalk and laughed and closed his mouth with his left hand, continued laughing like a monkeying kid, saying while laughing:

"469, 469, 469, 469, 469..."

His hair was almost touching his shoulders, all messy, his face was long, like his nose, with low eye brows, huge eyes, still having the faint marks of the laughter he gave out a second ago, looked at what he had in his hand again, his eyes glowed, sparkled, started to walk faster, right foot, slightly dragged, making small yellow clouds of dust, bright with the beams of the setting sun..

From the corner of the street he just passed, 4 men appeared,
"The motherfucker's here, CATCH HIM!!"

469! 469! 469!!

He looked back, goggled, whimpered, groaned in agony like someone twisted his arm, started running madly away from them, the men after him were furious, two of them had wooden clubs in their hands, he was hitting the people while running among them, running madly across another street, a car hit him, he turned around himself, smashed on the hood of the car like trying to hug it then scrolled off the car, smashed on the road, got up, tried to run madly again, the horse coaches to tour the city were lined up one behind the other near the sidewalk, he first hit a horse, the horse neighed and reared up, hit him with front legs, he then hit the coach in front, hard, blood started to flow from his nostrils, fell down to the road once again, got up, the men were almost crossing the street, started running towards the railway level crossing, the gate of which was closing with bells, ringing loudly, when in the middle of it, he looked up and straight ahead, to an apartment in a building, behind its window he thought he saw his daughter looking at him, just then he stumbled upon a rail, fell flat on his face, straightened himself on his knees and at the same instant felt an incredible pain on his right shoulder and ear. The men had reached him.

"Did you break it you son of a bitch, did you!!!"

"469!!!" Blood was running down from his right ear and nose, raised his free arm over his head, looked back right into the man's eyes, with huge frightened eyes.

"469, yeah, 469 it is!! Even your whore of a daughter can't buy it!"

He just got off the deep end, stood up in a flashing second and almost tore down the man's face with the reddish violin he held in his other hand, smashing it on him with the remains of the power he had within, the man fell down on the ground, covering his face, the other man stormed another big club on his right ear, again.

He made a gesture for an instant, like he was going to fly, unconsciously, stayed on air for an instant and fell on the unused part of the rails, his face hit hard. A dark veil fell upon his eyes... He couldn't look at the apartment his daughter was living in...

Opened his eyes, one last time, saw the people on the bridge, the rail, the train cars going into oblivion...

He was only going to play some violin to his daughter, he used to put her to sleep while playing the violin, maybe she would remember... Maybe still...

While blood was gently flowing from the corner of his mouth, the beams of the setting sun, over the cars of the trains, dazzled him, he smiled faintly and tried to move.. At the instant he moved his head, his broken neck, took his life... His eyes remained open... He froze, looking at Eskisehir Train Station, where his wife saw him off with their daughter embraced in her arms, to Istanbul, 27 years ago...



The photos for this image was taken from over the railway level crossing, one of the unused rails, looking at that very bridge and Eskisehir Train Station...

Two photographs and texture, overlayed each other... Some color balance adjust and desat...

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:heart:

Idris Can Koç

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Image size
2268x2268px 2.4 MB
Comments24
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GingerbreadTARDIS99's avatar
Man. That...

...

...that was depressing.