Strange things in my head (2)

Text: DaDa

Dear friends, today's editor will continue to share the excerpt of "Strange Things in My Head":

A thought flashed through his mind. The robbery was just a dream. Everything went on as usual. He wouldn't tell Raiha he was robbed because he wasn't robbed. Even being able to believe this illusion for a few seconds helped him alleviate a lot of pain. He rang the bell in his hand. "B-Z." he cried habitually, but at the same time, as in a dream, he felt no sound coming from his throat. In those good old days, when he was sad, humiliated, and sad about something in the street, Rahi would comfort him well when he came home. For the first time in his twenty-five years of selling bowls, Mavrut did not shout "bow-cha" all the way home before the jar was empty, but walked slowly home. Stepping into his one-room home, he knew from the silence that his two daughters, who were in elementary school, were asleep. Laikha sat on the edge of the bed, doing her handiwork as she did every night, glancing at the low-pitched television, waiting for McFlut to come home.

"I don't want to sell platinum anymore." said Mavrut.

Like many important writers, Pamuk belongs to his nation, but he is destined to be a wandering writer who can only be a stranger forever. Just like the classic poem,"Why are my eyes always full of tears, because I love this land deeply?" Deep love is always beautiful, moving, but it is the easiest to be disappointed.

In The Strange Thing in My Head, Mavrut is not a successful man; on the contrary, his life is full of all kinds of disappointments. At the age of 12, he came to Istanbul to make a living, but in middle age he was still walking around the streets. This experience is always ridiculed, because "almost all the people who come out at the same time as you have made a lot of money." But in the face of such taunts, and even more gruesome ones-from vicious dogs or street thugs-Mevlut retains the dignity of a low-level citizen, which is optimism and courtesy in the context of survival. He doesn't hate the jokes people make on him, but responds positively. This is also his attitude towards life-distress is an objective emotion, but it should not cover up people's goodwill and hope for life.

Mevlut has lived in Istanbul for 43 years and will continue to live. From the original "night house" to the final high-rise buildings, the city has gradually become what it is today. If Mevlut, the ordinary hero, has too much luck, it is also the help and support from the people around him, the freedom he has gained while walking the night road and selling bowls, and the endless power to support his life. Finally, the existence of faith is potential. It makes you calmer when things get tough. Well, today's Xiaobian science popularization is over here, we'll see you next time.