The books of this writer tell about human experiences, all-embracing and deep. Readers call him "the healer of women's souls."

Elchin Safarli is the most sincere writer of the East.

In his books you can find yourself, your feelings and experiences, which every person faces every day. This article tells about one of the author's last books - "When I return, be at home": reader reviews, plot and main characters.

A little about the author

Elchin was born in Baku in March 1984. He began to publish at the age of twelve in youth newspapers, writing stories right at school in the classroom. Four years later, he began to work in various media. Studied at the International University of Azerbaijan at the Faculty of Journalism. I managed to try my hand at television, collaborated with Azerbaijani and Turkish channels. For a long time, Elchin lived in Istanbul, which could not but affect his work. In the first books that made him a famous author, the action took place in this city. Elchin is called "the second Orkhan Pamuk". Pamuk himself says that "Safarli's books make him confident that oriental literature has a future."

Debut novel

Safarli is the first writer of the East to write in Russian. The debut book "Sweet Salt of the Bosphorus" was published in 2008, and in 2010 it was included in the top hundred of the most popular books in Moscow. The writer says that he created his book when he worked for a construction company. The only joyful experience at that time was meeting with the pages of my book. Colleagues left for lunch, and Elchin, having a bite of an apple, continued to write his Istanbul history. He writes in different places... For example, he can sketch an essay right on the ferry across the Bosphorus. But more often he writes at home, in silence. Muse is a changeable and fickle substance. You cannot hope for it, therefore Elchin believes that there are only two ways that will lead to success - this is skill and work. The book “When I return, be at home”, whose characters win over the reader, makes you want to read without stopping.

Writer's creativity

In the same 2008, a new book, "There Without Back" was published. A year later, Safarli presented his new work - "I'll be back". In 2010, three books are published at once: "A Thousand and Two Nights", "They Promised Me", "No Memories Without You." In 2012, Elchin delighted his fans with new works: “If You Knew”, “Legends of the Bosphorus” and “When I'm Without You”. In 2013, the sensational book Recipes for Happiness was published. In this book, the writer told not only a wonderful story about love, but also shared wonderful recipes of oriental cuisine with readers. In the book "When I Return, Be Home", the reader will also find the smells of aromatic pastries and the atmosphere of the winter ocean. In the very first lines, the reader will find himself in a house that “smells of rooibos” and “cookies with raspberry jam”. And one of the heroes of the book works in a bakery where they bake bread “with dried vegetables, olives and figs”.

Last works

In 2015, the book "I want to go home" is published, warm and romantic "Tell me about the sea" - in 2016. From the books of Safarli, you understand how sincerely he loves Istanbul and the sea. He beautifully describes both the city and the water. When you read his books, it seems that you see the welcoming lights of the city or hear the waves lapping. The author describes them so skillfully that you feel a light breeze, you feel how the air is filled with the aroma of coffee, fruits and pastries. But it is not only the smell of sweets that attracts readers of Safarli's books. They contain a lot of love and kindness, wise advice and quotes. When I Return, Be Home, published in 2017, is also filled with the wisdom of a man who has lived a long life and has seen a lot in his lifetime. The author himself says that he likes the ideas laid down in the history of the last two books.

What are his books about

It is not surprising that in Safarli's books there is a real truth hidden behind every story. In an interview, he was asked what he likes to write about. He replied that about people, about simple things that surround and disturb everyone. Wants to talk about what inspires, not depress. About the beauty of life. That it is pointless to wait for “perfect time”. We must enjoy life right now. Safarli says that he is devastated by injustice and when a person does not live his life. When the main thing for him becomes - to be correct in the eyes of neighbors, relatives, colleagues. And this absurdity - to depend on public opinion - is acquiring catastrophic proportions. It is not right.

“You need to let happiness into your life,” says the writer. “Happiness is gratitude for what you already have. Happiness is giving. But this does not mean that you have to deprive yourself of something. No. You just have to share. Share what you have - understanding, love, delicious lunch, happiness, skill. " And Safrali shares. Readers write in their reviews: “When I return, be at home” is a story with which Elchin touches the very heart, penetrating into the most remote corners of the soul and revealing kindness and love in a person. And I also want to get up and run to the kitchen to bake sunny buns, because the book is full of delicious recipes.

As writes

The writer says that in his books he is sincere and conveys the feelings and impressions that he experienced at a certain moment in his life. I wrote what I felt. This is not difficult, because Elchin lives the life of an ordinary person - he goes to the market, walks along the embankment, communicates with people, rides the subway and even bakes pies.

“They say my stories inspire people. There can be no better praise for a writer, ”he says. “It is given to us to live life with or without love. There are such states and moments that you don't want to see anyone, let alone love. But one day you wake up and you realize that you've burned out. It's all gone. This is life. "

And he writes about her in last book Elchin Safarli.

"When I return, be at home"

Briefly about this book, you can say this:

“This is the story of a father and daughter. Together they bake bread, clear the deck of the ship from snow, read books, walk the dog, listen to Dylan and, despite the snowstorm outside the window, learn to live. "

What is actually told in a book published about four months ago, but which has already collected several thousand reader reviews and, according to Google polls, liked by 91% of users? Of course, Google is silent about how many users left their review. But one thing is important, that more than ninety percent of readers who have shared their opinion have come to one conclusion: the book is worth reading. Therefore, let us dwell on it in more detail.

How the book is written

The story is told on behalf of the protagonist - he writes letters to his only daughter. Authors often use this genre. “When I return, be at home” is written in the form of letters. For a better perception by readers of the heroes of the work, for a deeper psychological characterization of the characters, writers often use this technique. In this case, letters are the compositional basis of the entire work. Portraits of heroes are drawn in them, here the narrator writes about his own observations, feelings, conversations and disputes with friends, which allows the reader to perceive the hero from different angles. And perhaps the most important thing for which this method of writing was chosen is to allow the reader to understand the depth of the protagonist's feelings, fatherly love and the pain of loss - a person will not be hypocritical before himself, and his own statements are often closer to the truth and more true.

In every line, his daughter is next to him - he shares recipes with her, talks about new acquaintances and friends, about a house on the ocean shore in the City of Eternal Winter. It would be too easy to say that in letters he talks to her about life, shares his thoughts and experiences. In fact, his letters, contained in a small book "When I return, be at home", are deep and bottomless in their content. They talk about boundless parental love, about the bitterness of loss, about the search for ways and strengths to overcome grief. Unable to accept the death of his beloved daughter and come to terms with her absence, he writes letters to her.

Life is happiness

Hans - the main character works, on his behalf, and the narration is conducted. He cannot come to terms with the death of his only daughter and writes letters to her. The first begins with a description of the new city he and his wife moved to after losing Dosta - the City of Eternal Winter. He reports that it is winter here all year round, on these November days "the ocean recedes", "the sharp cold wind does not let go of captivity." The hero of Elchin Safarli's book "When I return, be at home" tells his daughter that he hardly goes outside, he sits in a house where it smells of linden tea brewed with dried orange peel and the raspberry jam cookies their daughter loved so much. They put her portion in the closet: suddenly, as in childhood, I will run into the kitchen for lemonade and cookies.

Hans works in a bakery near the house, and he bakes bread with a companion. He writes to his daughter that baking bread is "a feat of hard work and patience." But he cannot imagine himself without this case. Hans shares in a letter the recipes they use to bake bread. She and her companion Amir have long wanted to bake simits - a favorite treat for coffee. Hans travels to Istanbul, where he lives for several days and learns to bake simita. But the value of his letters lies not in wonderful recipes, but in the wisdom that he shares with his daughter. Telling her: “Life is the way. Enjoy, ”he makes himself live. The whole plot is built on this. “When I return, be at home” is a story about happiness, it is in your beloved city where you live, in the eyes of your loved one, in your favorite business and even in the cry of seagulls.

Life is love

Maria is Dostu's mother. Hans, the protagonist of When I Return, Be Home, recalls how he met her. Maria is five years older than him. She worked in a library and was married. But he knew at first glance that the girl with brown hair would certainly become his wife. For four years he came every day to the library, because the "deep confidence" that they would be together "swept away all doubts." Maria often cries over the photograph of her daughter, this loss was very hard for her. She left home and lived alone for almost a year and a half to be alone with her grief, to get sick.

The pain did not go away, the attitude towards it changed. She just now takes up less space, making room for that that never left Mary - the desire to love. Maria will love with all her heart the son of family friends - Leon. After the death of his parents, he and Hans will take the boy to them. There is even a chapter titled “It is wonderful to love a living person” in the content. “When I return, be at home” is a story about love, about how important it is for a person to be loved, live brightly and enjoy those who are near.

Life is those who are near

From Hans's letters, the reader not only learns about his feelings or finds new recipes, but also meets his new friends: Amir, Umid, Jean, Darier, Leon.

Amir is Hans's companion and they work together at the bakery. Amir is twenty-six years younger than Hans, a surprisingly calm and balanced person. In his homeland, the war has been going on for the seventh year. From her, he took his family to the City of Eternal Winter. Amir wakes up at half past four in the morning, makes coffee - always with cardamom, prepares breakfast for his family and leaves for the bakery. He plays the guitar at lunchtime, and in the evening, after returning home, he dines - the first must be red lentil soup. He reads books to children and goes to bed. Everything repeats itself tomorrow. Hans finds such predictability boring. But Amir is happy - he lives in harmony with himself, enjoys love for what he has built.

The work "When I return, be at home" introduces another interesting character - Umid - a rebellious boy. Born and raised in the City of Eternal Winter, he worked in the same bakery with Hans - he brought home pastries. He studied at a Catholic school and wanted to become a priest. The guy's parents are philologists, he reads a lot. He left the City of Eternal Winter. Now he lives in Istanbul and works in a bakery where amazing simits are baked. Married to the daughter of an Idaho farmer. They often argue with his wife, an impulsive and jealous American, because Umid grew up in a slightly different environment, where his parents talk in half whispers and listen to Tchaikovsky in the evenings. But they do not last long. Young people immediately reconcile. Umid is a sympathetic guy. When Hans is gone, he will take care of Maria and Leon and help them get to Istanbul.

“The reason for disappointment,” Hans writes in a letter, “lies in the fact that the person is not in the present. He is busy waiting or remembering. People themselves drive themselves into loneliness at the very moment when they stop sharing warmth. "

Many readers write in their reviews: “When I return, be at home” is a story about losses and gains that accompany a person all his life.

Life is about caring for the happiness of others

Jean is a family friend, a psychologist. Maria and Hans met him at the shelter, when they took away the dog - Mars, and Jean - the cat. When he was little, his parents died in a car accident, Jean was raised by his grandmother, from whom he learned to cook wonderful onion soup. On the days when he cooks it, Jean invites friends and remembers his grandmother. He introduced them to his fiancée Daria, whose son Leon is growing up. His father immediately left the family after the birth of his son, having learned that Leon is autistic. Once, leaving Leon with Maria and Hans, Jean and Daria will leave on a journey from where they will not return.

Hans and Maria will keep the boy and call him son. This moment will touch the hearts of many readers, which they will write about in their reviews. “When I Return, Be Home” is a book that teaches you to share your warmth with others. Hans writes touchingly about the boy Leon, about his illness. He tells his daughter that the boy loves to tinker with dough and helps them at the bakery. Dost confesses that he is re-experiencing his father's feelings.

“Those who we need and whom we will soon love will knock on our door. We will open the curtains towards the sun, bake apple cookies with raisins, talk to each other and tell new stories - this will be salvation. "

In the annotation to "When I return, be at home" it is written that no one dies, those who loved each other during their lifetime will definitely meet. And neither name nor nationality matters - love binds forever.

With gratitude to my mother, sisters Ramzie Jilgamli and Diana Zenyuk, as well as Masha Kushnir

In this book, the words "hope", "faith", "happiness" and their derivatives are used 678 times.

- I heard you read the book, and what did you find in it?

- A new life.

- Do you believe that?

- Listen to me, I also once believed the book. And I decided that I would find this world. (...) Trust me: in the end there is nothing but death ...

- That world exists! (...)

- Yes, there is nothing! These are all beautiful fairy tales! Think of it as a game that an old idiot played with the kids. And then one day he decided to write the same book, but for adults. It is unlikely that he himself understands the meaning of what he wrote. It's funny to read, but if you believe in it, your life is lost ...

Orkhan Pamuk. "New life"

... You look at me, you look at me from near, closer and closer, we play Cyclops, we look at each other, bringing our faces closer, and the eyes grow, grow and everyone draws closer, screwed into each other: Cyclops look eye to eye, breath breaks, and our mouths meet, poke, bite each other with our lips, slightly resting our tongue against our teeth and tickling each other with heavy, intermittent breathing, smelling of an ancient, familiar smell and silence. My hands are looking for your hair, plunge into their depths and caress them, and we kiss as if our mouths are full of flowers, exuding a dull, dull aroma, or living, fluttering fish. And if it happens to bite, then the pain is sweet, and if it happens to suffocate in a kiss, suddenly swallowing at the same time and taking air from each other, then this death-moment is beautiful. And we have one saliva for two, and one for two, this smack of ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble in me, like the moon trembling in the night waters ...

Julio Cortazar. "Classics game"

... the course of events is not determined by me. Instead of controlling my characters, I let them live their own lives and express their opinions without hindrance. And I myself only listen and record.

Paradise Bradbury

I wanted to write about everything, about everything that happens around me.

About your flowers when you bring them.

About this towel, about the smell; about how it feels.

About all our feelings - yours, mine ...

About history: what we were.

About everything in the world, about everything together, dear!

Because everything in life is mixed ...

K / f "Clock"

Part I
About them

We have the right to fly wherever we want and be what we were created to be.

Richard Bach

1

... She squeezed tangerine juice for me and left.

Forever and ever. Under a glass with fresh citrus fruits, a damp napkin around the edges. Painful words are written on it in uneven handwriting. "I have left. Don't look for me. " She left on the first day of summer. Didn't run to look for her. Didn't start calling her mobile. He didn't smoke with nervous puffs. I took a glass of juice and brought it to my nose. He began to sniff. Did the tangerine scent take possession of the violet scent of her skin? Isn't that one preserved on the glass of a tall glass? I need you. I want to leave too. For you or for you. No matter. The important thing is you ...

... Women leave magical nights for men goodbye. Women's footprints on men's hearts. On the night before parting, she kissed differently than usual. Her kisses froze on my body, like snowflakes on an icy window. For some reason it was getting cold. Now I get it. Goodbye kisses lose their warmth They contain the cooled tenderness of parting ... On the last night, she did not look at me as usual. There is alienation in the look. Alienation in spite of love. She understood that it was time for her, but in every possible way delayed the hour of leaving. The struggle of the soul and mind. Reason has won. She left. Now I get it. There is no longing in the look before parting. There is a silent protest in it. Protest against myself. Feelings lose to reason. Often…

... I open the refrigerator. It contains nothing but green apples. Large, juicy green, with a waxy rind. She remembered. Once he told her that as a child he was cured of sadness with green apples. He hid in the thickets of his grandfather's garden, ate juicy apples, looked at the sky, counted the flying planes. So the sadness was forgotten. She gradually disappeared, as planes disappear in the sky ... All the next week he ate apples from the refrigerator. Memories lived in each of them. I ate the memories, leaving them forever in myself. No self-torture. I was sad, ate apples, I remembered. Somewhere in the depths of my soul, childishly hoped that on the day when the apples in the refrigerator ran out, she would return. The apples are out. She did not return ...

… Everything is born out of small things. Our love was born from one accidental touch. Queue at the exchange office. Evening bustle on Istiklal Jaddesi 1
Independence Street in the center of Istanbul.

Fine spring rain like powder. Fake songs by street musicians. The ice cream seller beckons customers. Sleepy pigeons on the roof of a newsstand. Baklava pistachio flavor 2
Turkish sweet pastries.

In the fresh air. She hits me with her bag and I drop my purse. Kurushi 3
Turkish bargaining chip.

We rolled across the tiled floor. I say sorry in Turkish. She is "oh, sorry for God's sake" in Russian. At the same time we bend down to collect coins. Touch. Her hands are cold. The first thing I noticed in her. Then he looked into her eyes. Green and blue. With sincere anxiety, enveloping tenderness. I wanted to kiss her on the lips. I could not restrain myself. Kissed.

She was surprised, and I fell in love. "Let's eat some ice cream ..." Said the first thing that came to mind. She answered in Turkish. "Oki 4
"Can" (Turkish.).

… ”Then she slapped me in the face. "You are definitely a lover of ginger-chocolate ice cream ..." She laughed, but I did not apologize ...

… True love is woven from contradictions. Stitched with threads of different characters, tastes, aspirations. Our love settled between heaven and earth. The sky, airy and windy, was she. The earth, stable-grounded, was me. Love between us ... I am a Muslim, it is Orthodox. I love blueberry pie, she loves cherry. I find myself in autumn, she comprehends harmony in summer. I believe in the transience of happiness, she believes in the possibility of its length. We were and remain different. The difference strengthened feelings, painted everyday life with variegated shades. Individuality in love must be preserved. Otherwise, over time, feelings will also perish ... Then which of us has unwound the knots of feelings? ..

2

... Appetizing balls of ice cream melted in a mother-of-pearl glass vase. They lost their individuality, merged into a common pale brown mass. She licked a teaspoon, from time to time holding it in her cranberry lips. Mentally left this cafe with a view of the Bosphorus. Carried away to where her freedom is free. Purely feminine freedom. “… I dream of becoming a seagull. Soar over the Golden Horn, peck fish, let yourself be fed with a crispy simit 5
Turkish bagels covered with sesame seeds.

It is up to you to decide where and with whom to fly ... ”She spoke to herself, but out loud. A velvety voice, sparse eyelashes, a dimpled smile. Smoldering cigarette in my fingers. "Hey, seagull, your ice cream is melting ..." She shudders, looks from the Golden Horn at me. Penetrates deep into my eyes. Goosebumps. I have. And on her face there is a smile.

Presses a cigarette into an ashtray. "Can I ask you something?" The waiter brings hot tea with kunefe 6
A sweet cheesecake that is eaten exceptionally hot.

The warm saffron sugar aroma drives away the vanilla ice cream flavor. One of my bad habits is hot after cold. "Ask ..." She returns her gaze to the Golden Horn again. "Give me ..." Doesn't say anything, lights a cigarette. "What to gift?" Signs of jewelry stores and expensive boutiques flashed before my eyes. In the first 48 hours of falling in love, a man doubts a woman. On a subconscious level. Fear of disappointment. "Give me hope ..." I drop my cigarette in surprise. She laughed. She got up, leaned over the table. She kissed her nose. “Will you give it? Come on, don't be greedy ... "-" I'll give ... "At that moment her mobile rang. He called all the time we were with her. We are often expected exactly where we do not want to return ... Why didn’t he drown her mobile in the Bosphorus? Telephone handsets get in the way. Just like in a song ...

... Her name is Mirumir. She introduced herself like that. "Is there really such Russian name? " She purses her lips in displeasure. "If I introduced myself as Natasha, would it be easier for you?" - "Oh, kay, then my name is Svetusvet ..." - "Are you kidding me?" She is fucking sexually angry. She throws a bitten roasted chestnut at me. There are traces of her lipstick on it. Oops, she manages to catch it in her mouth. Thinks. "To his inner world ... Satisfied, Svetusvet?" I laugh. "Satisfied ..."

She stops at the entrance to the Galata Tower 7
One of the symbols of Istanbul, located in the European part of the city on a high hill in the Galata district.

Putting her palm to her forehead, she lifts her head. Looks at the sixty-meter "Tower of Jesus" 8
The Genoese, who built the Galata Tower in 1348–1349, called it the "Tower of Jesus".

Gently sneak up behind her, kissing her neck. Slightly damp, tanned. The second kiss on the first day of dating. Impudence or audacity? She turns around. There is sadness in the eyes. "I'm afraid to love you ..." I hug her to me. "Do not be afraid ... After all, I have already fallen in love with you." Mirumir pulls away, embarrassed. "You better help me climb the 143 steps of Galata ... I won't get into the elevator." “I can take you in my arms. Only for this there is a payment: one kiss ... ”Angry. Again, incredibly sexy. “Are you all in the East bargaining so charmingly? No kissing. Forward and with a song ... "

... She wears navy blue and deep yellow. This is how her anticipation of the sea and the sun is expressed. “When I want to hide from everyone, I mentally plunge into the Bosphorus. The warm sea, warmed by the summer sun ... Therefore, I come here every year. I don't have to dive here. Here I can swim on the surface. " In its own way, Mirumir complements the dazzling palette of summer Istanbul ...

Lives not his own life. “I say 'love' to someone I don’t love. Isn't this the biggest misfortune? " Doesn't talk about life outside the present. A few words, then changes the subject. "It's cold in Moscow. Always ... Listen, how much does your haircut cost in a decent salon? " We are not discussing tomorrow. No plans, ideas, pans. Fell in love with each other today.

Love rarely deals with future tense. It often remains in the past or remains in the present. If love continues in the future, then its bearers are infinitely lucky ... I listen to the wind. He, overtaking the clouds, brings news from parallel time. For the wind, the distance between Istanbul and Moscow is a trifle. So why don't you talk about it, wind? ..

3

… Having got acquainted with my kitchen, she fell in love with me more. “Women recognize the character of a man in silence. We don’t ask questions, we don’t get into the soul. We look closely, listen, grope. We act without words ... ”Mirumir convinces that a man's cuisine speaks of his character. “If the kitchen is clean, untouched, then a man needs home warmth, although he is ready to deny it in every possible way. Such a stubborn person should be pampered with delicious food, but at the same time not tire with attention ... If there is a mess in the kitchen, ashtrays with cigarette butts are everywhere, it means that a man has a complex character. You need to adapt to this, and very carefully ... Your kitchen is "live". There is life in it. So, it's interesting with you, but not at all easy. You defend your personal space. "

I say that I do not believe in such generalizations. She pauses, gets out of bed. Puts on a bra. She has small breasts with delicate peach nipples. Insanely beautiful. Elegant sexuality. Proud posture, fragile shoulders, sensually protruding vertebrae. Scar on the right elbow. Short-cut nails ...

I get out of bed, lift her into my arms, return to bed. Kicking, pounding on the back, indignant. I bite into her dry lips that resemble violet leaves. Exciting naturalness. Almost does not use decorative cosmetics, perfumes. As she is. Without stereotyped beauty, feigned femininity. She doesn't read Kundera - she loves Hyoga, Sagan, Capote. Often repeats a phrase from Breakfast at Tiffany's: “This cat and I are very similar. We are both poor, nameless mess ... "

She kisses my chin, rubs her face against my stubble. “Tell me that you don’t love me… Drive me away… Tell me that you need sex from me and nothing else… Do not pull me into love…” I enter it deeper, whispering in my ear. "I love ... You hear, I love ... You won't leave ..." She closes her eyes. Tears are flowing. Love with a bound heart. Have you had this? When there is no going back or forward. There is only a place where you stand and cannot move ...

Sits on the windowsill. In panties. Hands wrapped around your knees. Wavy brown hair. Banana nail polish plays in the sun. I bring coffee. Stepping on the "Bonjour tristesse" 9
"Hello, sadness!" (fr.).

Paperback, takes a cup. "Is she so close to you in spirit?" I leaf through the book. Pale gray paper, poor adhesion. The book smells like it. "A little ... The more I read Sagan, the better I begin to understand what a complex character she had ... In the first place she put her pleasure ... always ... Forgivable selfishness ... but that is not important ..."

Drinks coffee. “Great ... Ellerine sa? L? K 10
Health to your hands (Turkish.).

... What kind of coffee? " - "Fig". - "Which?!" I put the book aside and take a cigarette out of the pack. The lighter is naughty - the flame is intermittent. “Yes, dear, fig. It was prepared during the Ottoman Empire. And my grandmother taught me. Grandma Lale ... "

Mirumir opens the window, sucks in the sea air. "Hey, Bosfoor, wooooooo! .." Waving his hand to the great strait, attracting the attention of people passing below. A naked girl in a sixth-floor window in broad daylight. I laugh, wondering at myself. With all the acquisitions of our time, there is a lot of conservatism in me. But next to her I somehow change, like the direction of the wind. Strong influence or great love?

“Back to coffee ... Tell me how to make it? I will enjoy it in Moscow ... In short, it doesn't matter where. " “Add small pieces of dried figs and a pinch of cinnamon to the grinder along with the beans. Cook in your favorite way. The taste, as you can see, has not changed much. But what aroma ... Just do not forget to pour the finished coffee into the cups through a sieve, without the grounds. "

He finishes his coffee. Thinking. Looks at the wall clock. “Bring the scotch tape. I want to tape the arrows so they don't move. Or remove the batteries from the watch. Do anything, stop time ... "-" Why, Mirumir? " Is silent. "Explain why." Lowers her eyes. "Come on ..." She suddenly swings and smashes the coffee cup on the wall clock. Crying. "Stop time ... Stop ..." I hug her. “Okay, okay… Don't cry…” Before parting, time accelerates, and with the onset of parting, it slows down. There are many mistakes in the "Love is ..." program. But you cannot reinstall it. Unfortunately…

4

… The roads of Istanbul at night are all in fragments of broken hearts. Crunch underfoot, crumble, biting into the shoes of passers-by. Passers-by are those who are lucky today. A little more than others. However, each of these passers-by realizes that his heart may break tomorrow night. The law of the metropolis: everyone cannot be lucky. On the film "Istanbul Gold 400" there are more than 20 million frames with human destinies. Increased sensitivity, color balance - the best in the East ...

The clock is 03:12. Beyoglu. Bohemian district of Istanbul. The older generation of Turks calls it "a hotbed of immorality", young people call it "heavenly hell." The bohemian flower of Istanbul first grew, bloomed here. Since then, it blooms every day after midnight ...

Empty bus stop. There was no one around except us and two drunken transvestites who fell asleep by one of the lightboxes. We sit at a distance from each other. We smoke in unison. I am Kent 1, she is Kent 4. Gathered her hair in two buns. She put on big glasses - yellow glasses with green rims. “Why are you laughing? Reflection of the state of mind ... ”In silence we look at the road a few meters from us. There are few cars. Only from time to time do taxis with luminous checkers sweep by. Traffic lights change colors, stopwatches on them uselessly inform the ghosts of the city at night about the green light.

The Bosphorus is quiet, my cigarette is smoking under my nose, music is breaking out a block away. I listen to the words of the song. "Istanbul seni kaybetmi? ... Eski bir banda kaydetmi? ..." 11
"Istanbul has lost you ... Recorded on an old tape ..." (Turkish.).

Right in the heart. "I am afraid to lose you ... You ... Mirumir ... Do you hear?" A police siren sounded somewhere. Female scream. "And I am already lost ..." She blows at the traffic light, and he, obeying her, changes color. "Look, I am a fairy ... A fairy with a bad head ... Light, I beg you, lose me ..." Her cell phone rang. Doesn't answer. “It's too late, baby. I've already found you. ”He throws the cigarette butt down, presses it down with the toe of his sandals. He grins. "So what's the problem? You will lose again ... "

I look to the sky. There, someone spilled liquid dark chocolate with almond chunks. Almonds are stars. Suddenly one of them flies from the sky. Falls right into the heart of the Bosphorus. The mind instantly formulates desire. The Turks say that if a star falls with desire and dissolves in the Bosphorus, then “your desire and the desire of your half” will come true. There is no time: the star is approaching the mirror-like surface of the strait. I make one wish for two. "Love is beyond parting." Off, in time ...

While watching the star, I did not notice how Mirumir moved towards me. "A star fell into the Bosphorus ... I made a wish for us ..." She smiled. For the first time that night. "I noticed her at the same time as you ..." - "Yes? And what wish did you make? " Takes off his glasses. Listens to the Bosphorus. "It's not even a desire ... I just said:" Don't let me go ... "I said to the star, but I thought about you." I put on my glasses again. I turned to the traffic light: the breath of the heart changes the signals. I squeeze her hand in my palm and say nothing. Beyoglu continued to rattle and lecher. The clock is already 04:16. It's time…

* * *

... I multiply cigarette butts in the flashes of dawn. She fell asleep with her head on my feet. Plunging into a dream, it seems to decrease in size. The body shrinks, facial features become shallow. I want to wrap her up in myself. Save from hurricanes of memories, rains of despair. But I cannot move. Mirumir restricts my movements. It's a pity to wake her up ... Even within the walls of the kingdom of Morpheus, she proudly refuses help, locking herself in the locks of loneliness. “Each of his own cross must carry himself. Why bother your neighbor? He has his own cross ... ”Mirumir is afraid to wait. Maybe this is correct? When you wait for a long time and in the end you do not get what you expect, you stop believing and, accordingly, hoping. Maybe it's better not to peer into the horizons with the hope of seeing the scarlet sails? .. We have a lot to choose from. Is always. I choose her. I choose - love. I make a choice for two. Indeed, in despair, there is often no strength left to make a choice. In despair, I want someone to make a choice for you at least once ... I make a choice for the world.

5

... Doesn't talk about himself. Burns in your own words. I don't feel secrecy or insincerity. Mirumir does not want to return to where her mind drags her, despite the impulses of her soul. “Monroe once said: 'When the hard days come, I think: it would be nice to become a cleaner to take out the inner pain ...' I, on the contrary, are drawn to a cleaner at a happy time. I would like to cleanse out of myself the disappointments of the past, fears of the present. I am afraid of the present, because I do not know what future it will lead to ... "

Loves to look at me when I am not looking at her. When I shave in the morning, she leans against the bathroom doorframe, watching me intently. When I explain our order to the waiter, she covers her ears with her hands and reads my speech over her lips. When I go to the toilet, squeezing through the tables in the hall, she draws with her eyes a heart on my back. “So I find in you what I have been looking for for so long. No, you are not a prince on a white horse. You are my present. Real, close, dear. It doesn't matter whether you are a prince or a king, whether you have a horse or not. It is important that you are here. With me. And such a ... This is not pathos, Svetusvet. This is what I always wanted to say in the present. Every woman has words reserved for the hero of her present. Happy present. You just need to wait for it. I waited "...

Lying on the purple sofa in the living room, watching "Don" t Bother to Knock 12
"You don't have to knock" (English). Psychological drama, 1952. Marilyn Monroe played the main role in it.

She chews on pumpkin seeds, I drink hot chocolate from Starbucks. She is in my shirt in a blue and white check, I am in some boxer shorts. She threw her legs over the back of the sofa, I stretched mine, laid them on the blue ottoman. Mirumir calls Marilyn Monroe a "restless devil". "A delightful girl ... They saw in her first sex, then - talent ... Somehow unfair ..." I've never been a fan of Norma Jean. “But in my opinion, there is no special talent in her. But there is a great ass ... ”Pinches my stomach. "You are all men from the same garden ..."

Mirumir gets up from the sofa, twists her hair into a knot. Lights up a cigarette. “You know, before 'Don' t Bother to Knock 'I thought Monroe was an empty actress of stupid comedies. But after this work I looked at her differently ... In fact, she was an unhappy actress, because she reluctantly played even in real life ... I read a lot about I found something in her that brings us together. I also understand that we need to run faster and faster in life. But I can't do it either - my legs don't go ... "The story ends as soon as it intersects with her life. As always ...

Moves to the window. He puts his elbows on the windowsill, looks at the cars passing by below. Freezes, dies down. For a moment it seems to me that she has disappeared from the present. Left Istanbul, returned to Moscow. I call Mirumir. Doesn't respond. Fear lifts me off the couch. I quietly approach from behind so as not to frighten her. My steps are drowned out by the sound of the TV. I hand her my chocolate. "Want? There is still ... ”She shook her head negatively. The sea breeze wiggles a strand of hair that has fallen on his forehead. The cigarette went out. Does not notice. "... I wander on all four sides ... Forged by frost ... Strong as a spider web in the wind ... Hanging to the ground ... I still somehow hold on ..." - "Where is this from?" “Monroe wrote. As if about me, to the point ... "

The books of this writer tell about human experiences, all-embracing and deep. Readers call him "the healer of women's souls." Elchin Safarli is the most sincere writer of the East. In his books you can find yourself, your feelings and experiences, which every person faces every day. This article tells about one of the author's last books - "When I return, be at home": reader reviews, plot and main characters.

A little about the author

Elchin was born in Baku in March 1984. He began to publish at the age of twelve in youth newspapers, writing stories right at school in the classroom. Four years later, he began to work in various media. Studied at the International University of Azerbaijan at the Faculty of Journalism. I managed to try my hand at television, collaborated with Azerbaijani and Turkish channels. For a long time, Elchin lived in Istanbul, which could not but affect his work. In the first books that made him a famous author, the action took place in this city. Elchin is called "the second Orkhan Pamuk". Pamuk himself says that "Safarli's books make him confident that oriental literature has a future."

Debut novel

Safarli is the first writer of the East to write in Russian. The debut book "Sweet Salt of the Bosphorus" was published in 2008, and in 2010 it was included in the top hundred of the most popular books in Moscow. The writer says that he created his book when he worked for a construction company. The only joyful experience at that time was meeting with the pages of my book. Colleagues left for lunch, and Elchin, having a bite of an apple, continued to write his Istanbul history. He writes in various places. For example, he can sketch an essay right on the ferry across the Bosphorus. But more often he writes at home, in silence. Muse is a changeable and fickle substance. You cannot hope for it, therefore Elchin believes that there are only two ways that will lead to success - this is skill and work. The book "When I return, be at home", whose characters win over the reader, makes you want to read without stopping.

Writer's creativity

In the same 2008, a new book, "There Without Back" was published. A year later, Safarli presented his new work - "I'll be back". In 2010, three books are published at once: "A Thousand and Two Nights", "They Promised Me", "No Memories Without You." In 2012, Elchin delighted his fans with new works: “If You Knew”, “Legends of the Bosphorus” and “When I'm Without You”. In 2013, the sensational book Recipes for Happiness was published. In this book, the writer told not only a wonderful story about love, but also shared wonderful recipes of oriental cuisine with readers. In the book "When I Return, Be Home", the reader will also find the smells of aromatic pastries and the atmosphere of the winter ocean. In the very first lines, the reader will find himself in a house that “smells of rooibos” and “cookies with raspberry jam”. And one of the heroes of the book works in a bakery where they bake bread “with dried vegetables, olives and figs”.

Last works

In 2015, the book "I want to go home" is published, warm and romantic "Tell me about the sea" - in 2016. From the books of Safarli, you understand how sincerely he loves Istanbul and the sea. He beautifully describes both the city and the water. When you read his books, it seems that you see the welcoming lights of the city or hear the waves lapping. The author describes them so skillfully that you feel a light breeze, you feel how the air is filled with the aroma of coffee, fruits and pastries. But it is not only the smell of sweets that attracts readers of Safarli's books. They contain a lot of love and kindness, wise advice and quotes. When I Return, Be Home, published in 2017, is also filled with the wisdom of a man who has lived a long life and has seen a lot in his lifetime. The author himself says that he likes the ideas laid down in the history of the last two books.

What are his books about

It is not surprising that in Safarli's books there is a real truth hidden behind every story. In an interview, he was asked what he likes to write about. He replied that about people, about simple things that surround and disturb everyone. Wants to talk about what inspires, not depress. About the beauty of life. That it is pointless to wait for “perfect time”. We must enjoy life right now. Safarli says that he is devastated by injustice and when a person does not live his life. When the main thing for him becomes - to be correct in the eyes of neighbors, relatives, colleagues. And this absurdity - to depend on public opinion - is acquiring catastrophic proportions. It is not right.

“You need to let happiness into your life,” says the writer. “Happiness is gratitude for what you already have. Happiness is giving. But this does not mean that you have to deprive yourself of something. No. You just have to share. Share what you have - understanding, love, delicious lunch, happiness, skill. " And Safrali shares. Readers write in reviews: “When I return, be at home” is a story with which Elchin touches the very heart, penetrating into the most remote corners of the soul and revealing kindness and love in a person. And I also want to get up and run to the kitchen to bake sunny buns, because the book is full of delicious recipes.

As writes

The writer says that in his books he is sincere and conveys the feelings and impressions that he experienced at a certain moment in his life. I wrote what I felt. This is not difficult, because Elchin lives the life of an ordinary person - he goes to the market, walks along the embankment, communicates with people, rides the subway and even bakes pies.

“They say my stories inspire people. There can be no better praise for a writer, ”he says. “It is given to us to live life with or without love. There are such states and moments that you don't want to see anyone, let alone love. But one day you wake up and you realize that you've burned out. It's all gone. This is life. " var blockSettings13 = (blockId: "R-A-116722-13", renderTo: "yandex_rtb_R-A-116722-13", horizontalAlign:! 1, async:! 0); if (document.cookie.indexOf ("abmatch =")> = 0) (blockSettings13 = (blockId: "RA-116722-13", renderTo: "yandex_rtb_R-A-116722-13", horizontalAlign:! 1, statId: 7, async:! 0);)! Function (a, b, c, d, e) (a [c] = a [c] ||, a [c] .push (function () (Ya.Context. AdvManager.render (blockSettings13))), e = b.getElementsByTagName ("script"), d = b.createElement ("script"), d.type = "text / javascript", d.src = "http: // an.yandex.ru/system/context.js",d.async=!0,e.parentNode.insertBefore(d,e))(this,this.document,"yandexContextAsyncCallbacks ");

Elchin Safarli writes about her in his last book.

"When I return, be at home"

Briefly about this book, you can say this:

“This is the story of a father and daughter. Together they bake bread, clear the deck of the ship from snow, read books, walk the dog, listen to Dylan and, despite the snowstorm outside the window, learn to live. "

What is actually the story of a book published about four months ago, but has already collected several thousand readers' reviews and, according to Google polls, liked by 91% of users? Of course, Google is silent about how many users left their review. But one thing is important, that more than ninety percent of readers who have shared their opinion have come to one conclusion: the book is worth reading. Therefore, let us dwell on it in more detail.

How the book is written

The story is told on behalf of the protagonist - he writes letters to his only daughter. Authors often use this genre. “When I return, be at home” is written in the form of letters. For a better perception by readers of the heroes of the work, for a deeper psychological characterization of the characters, writers often use this technique. In this case, letters are the compositional basis of the entire work. Portraits of heroes are drawn in them, here the narrator writes about his own observations, feelings, conversations and disputes with friends, which allows the reader to perceive the hero from different angles. And perhaps the most important thing for which this method of writing was chosen is to allow the reader to understand the depth of the protagonist's feelings, fatherly love and the pain of loss - a person will not be hypocritical before himself, and his own statements are often closer to the truth and more true.

In every line, his daughter is next to him - he shares recipes with her, talks about new acquaintances and friends, about a house on the ocean shore in the City of Eternal Winter. It would be too easy to say that in letters he talks to her about life, shares his thoughts and experiences. In fact, his letters, contained in a small book "When I return, be at home", are deep and bottomless in their content. They talk about boundless parental love, about the bitterness of loss, about the search for ways and strengths to overcome grief. Unable to accept the death of his beloved daughter and come to terms with her absence, he writes letters to her.

Life is happiness

Hans is the main character of the work, and the narration is conducted on his behalf. He cannot come to terms with the death of his only daughter and writes letters to her. The first begins with a description of the new city he and his wife moved to after losing Dosta - the City of Eternal Winter. He reports that it is winter here all year round, on these November days "the ocean recedes", "the sharp cold wind does not let go of captivity." The hero of Elchin Safarli's book "When I Come Back, Be Home" tells his daughter that he hardly goes outside, he sits in a house where it smells of linden tea brewed with dried orange peel and cookies with raspberry jam, which their daughter loved so much. They put her portion in the closet: suddenly, as in childhood, I will run into the kitchen for lemonade and cookies.

Hans works in a bakery near the house, and he bakes bread with a companion. He writes to his daughter that baking bread is "a feat of hard work and patience." But he cannot imagine himself without this case. Hans shares in a letter the recipes they use to bake bread. She and her companion Amir have long wanted to bake simits - a favorite treat for coffee. Hans travels to Istanbul, where he lives for several days and learns to bake simita. But the value of his letters lies not in wonderful recipes, but in the wisdom that he shares with his daughter. Telling her: “Life is the way. Enjoy, ”he makes himself live. The whole plot is built on this. “When I return, be at home” is a story about happiness, it is in your beloved city where you live, in the eyes of your loved one, in your favorite business and even in the cry of seagulls.

Life is love

Maria is Dostu's mother. Hans, the protagonist of When I Return, Be Home, recalls how he met her. Maria is five years older than him. She worked in a library and was married. But he knew at first glance that the girl with brown hair would certainly become his wife. For four years he came every day to the library, because the "deep confidence" that they would be together "swept away all doubts." Maria often cries over the photograph of her daughter, this loss was very hard for her. She left home and lived alone for almost a year and a half to be alone with her grief, to get sick.

The pain did not go away, the attitude towards it changed. She just now takes up less space, making room for that that never left Mary - the desire to love. Maria will love with all her heart the son of family friends - Leon. After the death of his parents, he and Hans will take the boy to them. There is even a chapter titled “It is wonderful to love a living person” in the content. “When I return, be at home” is a story about love, about how important it is for a person to be loved, live brightly and enjoy those who are near.

Life is those who are near

From Hans's letters, the reader not only learns about his feelings or finds new recipes, but also meets his new friends: Amir, Umid, Jean, Darier, Leon.

Amir is Hans's companion and they work together at the bakery. Amir is twenty-six years younger than Hans, a surprisingly calm and balanced person. In his homeland, the war has been going on for the seventh year. From her, he took his family to the City of Eternal Winter. Amir wakes up at half past four in the morning, makes coffee - always with cardamom, prepares breakfast for his family and leaves for the bakery. He plays the guitar at lunchtime, and in the evening, after returning home, he dines - the first must be red lentil soup. He reads books to children and goes to bed. Everything repeats itself tomorrow. Hans finds such predictability boring. But Amir is happy - he lives in harmony with himself, enjoys love for what he has built.

The work "When I return, be at home" introduces another interesting character - Umid - a rebellious boy. Born and raised in the City of Eternal Winter, he worked in the same bakery with Hans - he brought home pastries. He studied at a Catholic school and wanted to become a priest. The guy's parents are philologists, he reads a lot. He left the City of Eternal Winter. Now he lives in Istanbul and works in a bakery where amazing simits are baked. Married to the daughter of an Idaho farmer. They often argue with his wife, an impulsive and jealous American, because Umid grew up in a slightly different environment, where his parents talk in half whispers and listen to Tchaikovsky in the evenings. But they do not last long. Young people immediately reconcile. Umid is a sympathetic guy. When Hans is gone, he will take care of Maria and Leon and help them get to Istanbul.

“The reason for disappointment,” Hans writes in a letter, “lies in the fact that the person is not in the present. He is busy waiting or remembering. People themselves drive themselves into loneliness at the very moment when they stop sharing warmth. "

Many readers write in their reviews: “When I return, be at home” is a story about losses and gains that accompany a person all his life.

Life is about caring for the happiness of others

Jean is a family friend, a psychologist. Maria and Hans met him at the shelter, when they took away the dog - Mars, and Jean - the cat. When he was little, his parents died in a car accident, Jean was raised by his grandmother, from whom he learned to cook wonderful onion soup. On the days when he cooks it, Jean invites friends and remembers his grandmother. He introduced them to his fiancée Daria, whose son Leon is growing up. His father immediately left the family after the birth of his son, having learned that Leon is autistic. Once, leaving Leon with Maria and Hans, Jean and Daria will leave on a journey from where they will not return.

Hans and Maria will keep the boy and call him son. This moment will touch the hearts of many readers, which they will write about in their reviews. “When I Return, Be Home” is a book that teaches you to share your warmth with others. Hans writes touchingly about the boy Leon, about his illness. He tells his daughter that the boy loves to tinker with dough and helps them at the bakery. Dost confesses that he is re-experiencing his father's feelings.

“Those who we need and whom we will soon love will knock on our door. We will open the curtains towards the sun, bake apple cookies with raisins, talk to each other and tell new stories - this will be salvation. "

In the annotation to "When I return, be at home" it is written that no one dies, those who loved each other during their lifetime will definitely meet. And neither name nor nationality matters - love binds forever.

When I am without you ... (collection) Elchin Safarli

(No ratings yet)

Title: When I am without you ... (collection)

About the book "When I am without you ... (collection)" Elchin Safarli

Elchin Safarli is a young writer and journalist. He began to write his first poems as a schoolboy. When he had a free minute, he could compose a short poem. E. Safarli writes in his books about love, oriental culture, traditions, everyday life. His works are in great demand, they are praised by critics. The author lived for a long time in Turkey, where he had a resounding success. E. Safarli has many awards for his poems. To draw attention to the young writer, director Sergei Sarakhanov made a documentary about him. Sergei himself is very imbued with the work of Elchin and rereads his works with great pleasure. One of the director's handbooks is "When I am without you ... (collection)". In his opinion, the author was able to put his whole soul into poetry. They turned out to be bright, personal, so they touch the heart from the first lines.

Elchin Safarli in the book "When I am without you ... (collection)" reveals the essence of love. Many may disagree with his idea of ​​this feeling, but his beautiful poetry and great style will convince anyone. After reading the collection, peace and pure thoughts remain, I want to live and give love to everyone. This is an extraordinary state, when nothing is impossible, when the boundaries of consciousness are erased and you just want to love the whole world.

"When I am without you ... (collection)" will help to express your feelings, be filled with harmony and do a lot of good deeds. The book is an inspiration for many, since the author was able to convey the truth to people in simple words.

On our site about books, you can download the site for free without registration or read online book"When I am without you ... (collection)" Elchin Safarli in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, find out the biography of your favorite authors. For aspiring writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and recommendations, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary skill.

Quotes from the book "When I am without you ... (collection)" Elchin Safarli

I want you to know one thing: your name is always on my lips.
I will restrain myself so as not to say it out loud: let no one know how hard it is for me without you.
But I will repeat it to myself, hoping to someday meet you in the crowd. And when I see you, it will be the happiest day.
The longest and most amazing ...

Will I ever be able to think about it without pain?
- Of course you can.
- But when ?!
- When you bring melancholy to its highest point, and everything will go away, however, it is not known, with or without you. Or when you come back many times, letting go a little. It is impossible to overcome the pain quickly, but it will work out.

Be with me. No wonder that once upon a time, in one beautiful dream of youth, they promised you to me!

Free download the book "When I am without you ... (collection)" Elchin Safarli

(Fragment)

In the format fb2: Download
In the format rtf: Download
In the format epub: Download
In the format txt:

I'll be back…
novel

With gratitude to my mother, sisters Ramzie Jilgamli and Diana Zenyuk, as well as Masha Kushnir

In this book, the words "hope", "faith", "happiness" and their derivatives are used 678 times.

- I heard you read the book, and what did you find in it?

- A new life.

- Do you believe that?

- Listen to me, I also once believed the book. And I decided that I would find this world. (...) Trust me: in the end there is nothing but death ...

- That world exists! (...)

- Yes, there is nothing! These are all beautiful fairy tales! Think of it as a game that an old idiot played with the kids. And then one day he decided to write the same book, but for adults. It is unlikely that he himself understands the meaning of what he wrote. It's funny to read, but if you believe in it, your life is lost ...

Orkhan Pamuk. "New life"

... You look at me, you look at me from near, closer and closer, we play Cyclops, we look at each other, bringing our faces closer, and the eyes grow, grow and everyone draws closer, screwed into each other: Cyclops look eye to eye, breath breaks, and our mouths meet, poke, bite each other with our lips, slightly resting our tongue against our teeth and tickling each other with heavy, intermittent breathing, smelling of an ancient, familiar smell and silence. My hands are looking for your hair, plunge into their depths and caress them, and we kiss as if our mouths are full of flowers, exuding a dull, dull aroma, or living, fluttering fish. And if it happens to bite, then the pain is sweet, and if it happens to suffocate in a kiss, suddenly swallowing at the same time and taking air from each other, then this death-moment is beautiful. And we have one saliva for two, and one for two, this smack of ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble in me, like the moon trembling in the night waters ...

Julio Cortazar. "Classics game"

... the course of events is not determined by me. Instead of controlling my characters, I let them live their own lives and express their opinions without hindrance. And I myself only listen and record.

Paradise Bradbury

I wanted to write about everything, about everything that happens around me.

About your flowers when you bring them.

About this towel, about the smell; about how it feels.

About all our feelings - yours, mine ...

About history: what we were.

About everything in the world, about everything together, dear!

Because everything in life is mixed ...

K / f "Clock"

Part I
About them

We have the right to fly wherever we want and be what we were created to be.

Richard Bach

1

... She squeezed tangerine juice for me and left. Forever and ever. Under a glass with fresh citrus fruits, a damp napkin around the edges. Painful words are written on it in uneven handwriting. "I have left. Don't look for me. " She left on the first day of summer. Didn't run to look for her. Didn't start calling her mobile. He didn't smoke with nervous puffs. I took a glass of juice and brought it to my nose. He began to sniff. Did the tangerine scent take possession of the violet scent of her skin? Isn't that one preserved on the glass of a tall glass? I need you. I want to leave too. For you or for you. No matter. The important thing is you ...

... Women leave magical nights for men goodbye. Women's footprints on men's hearts. On the night before parting, she kissed differently than usual. Her kisses froze on my body, like snowflakes on an icy window. For some reason it was getting cold. Now I get it. Goodbye kisses lose their warmth They contain the cooled tenderness of parting ... On the last night, she did not look at me as usual. There is alienation in the look. Alienation in spite of love. She understood that it was time for her, but in every possible way delayed the hour of leaving. The struggle of the soul and mind. Reason has won. She left. Now I get it. There is no longing in the look before parting. There is a silent protest in it. Protest against myself. Feelings lose to reason. Often…

... I open the refrigerator. It contains nothing but green apples. Large, juicy green, with a waxy rind. She remembered. Once he told her that as a child he was cured of sadness with green apples. He hid in the thickets of his grandfather's garden, ate juicy apples, looked at the sky, counted the flying planes. So the sadness was forgotten. She gradually disappeared, as planes disappear in the sky ... All the next week he ate apples from the refrigerator. Memories lived in each of them. I ate the memories, leaving them forever in myself. No self-torture. I was sad, ate apples, I remembered. Somewhere in the depths of my soul, childishly hoped that on the day when the apples in the refrigerator ran out, she would return. The apples are out. She did not return ...

… Everything is born out of small things. Our love was born from one accidental touch. Queue at the exchange office. Evening bustle at Istiklal Jaddesi. Fine spring rain like powder. Fake songs by street musicians. The ice cream seller beckons customers. Sleepy pigeons on the roof of a newsstand. Pistachio aroma of baklava in the fresh air. She hits me with her bag and I drop my purse. Kurushi rolled across the tiled floor. I say sorry in Turkish. She is "oh, sorry for God's sake" in Russian. At the same time we bend down to collect coins. Touch. Her hands are cold. The first thing I noticed in her. Then he looked into her eyes. Green and blue. With sincere anxiety, enveloping tenderness. I wanted to kiss her on the lips. I could not restrain myself. Kissed.

She was surprised, and I fell in love. "Let's eat some ice cream ..." Said the first thing that came to mind. She answered in Turkish. "Okie ..." Then she slapped me in the face. "You are definitely a lover of ginger-chocolate ice cream ..." She laughed, but I did not apologize ...

… True love is woven from contradictions. Stitched with threads of different characters, tastes, aspirations. Our love settled between heaven and earth. The sky, airy and windy, was she. The earth, stable-grounded, was me. Love between us ... I am a Muslim, it is Orthodox. I love blueberry pie, she loves cherry. I find myself in autumn, she comprehends harmony in summer. I believe in the transience of happiness, she believes in the possibility of its length. We were and remain different. The difference strengthened feelings, painted everyday life with variegated shades. Individuality in love must be preserved. Otherwise, over time, feelings will also perish ... Then which of us has unwound the knots of feelings? ..