The Bastard of Istanbul

by Elif Shafak

There was something in the color white that resembled silence. Both were emptied of life.

How terrible it was to still be mentally and emotionally attached to someone from whom you have been physically separated.

How he wished he could remove his memory, restart the program, until all of the files were deleted and gone.

“You see, unlike in the movies, there is no THE END sign flashing at the end of books. When I’ve read a book, I don’t feel like I’ve finished anything. So I start a new one.”

This is so true, and apply aptly to me.

Memories are too much of a burden.”

If I keep thinking about it, I’ll go nuts. So I say to myself, why do you want to unearth the secrets? Don’t you see that the past is a vicious circle? It is a loop. It sucks us in and makes us run like a hamster on a wheel. Then we start to repeat ourselves, again and again.”

Ways of loving from a distance, mating without even touching—Amor platonicus! The ladder of love one is expected to climb higher and higher, elating the Self and the Other. Plato clearly regards any actual physical contact as corrupt and ignoble because he thinks the true goal of Eros is beauty. Is there no beauty in sex? Not according to Plato. He is after ‘more sublime pursuits.’

For the heart to heal, the eyes need not see them for a while.”

So true!!

Was it really better for human beings to discover more of their past? And then more and more …? Or was it simply better to know as little of the past as possible and even to forget what small amount was remembered?

Article Ten: If you find a dear friend, make sure you don’t get so accustomed to her as to forget that in the end, each one of us is existentially lonely and that sooner or later the everlasting solitude will overtake any fortuitous friendships.

“Mourning is like virginity.” Auntie Zeliha heaved a sigh. “You should give it to the one who deserves it most.