First of all, greetings to all the people in the universe from this virtual page which I have scribed my thoughts by caricaturizing myself.

I extend to you by gratitude, love and respect for sparing the time to patiently read these unworthy sentences.

Now, I will describe a character who lives far away from you and to himself. Everything can be spoken, told and everything can be written about people. However people are incredibly complex.

If we could understand the mystery of the language of animals, we could first understand ourselves and then the people. Because people impersonate the roles of kindness and evil quite realistically in the way that suits them. Who I am, my aged dirty identity, my color, my language, my beliefs, my blurred spiritual identity, my personality and my disgusting egos which I hate the most about my self have no value and meaning whatsoever for me. Generally, I am one of the persons who lives the destiny of the ones that have been alienated to the edge of life

In short, I don’t value myself much.

Think of a child raised in adverse economic conditions? Where there is no communication among the family members.

I come from a dramatic life story of a mentally disabled child who has been unconsciously neglected, raised in tension, violence within the storms, left behind to solitude and desperation, yearning for attention, love and self-confidence.

Briefly, it is a life fictionalized on dissatisfactions. Like millions of people.

Why did I decide to write a novel? I was carrying a silent but heavy block of ice on my shoulders and back as it were.

It was cold, I was shivering and the pain was disturbing my soul and body. I now had to shake this ice block of my back.

I had to reckon with myself and protest the insufficiency of life.

In stead of watching my self fraudulently from a distance, I move closer to my inner world and confronted my inner honesty with the imposter.

I illuminated that darkness by delving into the deep darkness of my unconscious mind’s memory storage.

There I applied a lengthy systematic heavy torture to the emotions trapped in that darkness and wrote a drama.

I never showed pity and treated myself masochistically.

I did not convey the characters in a way they actually are but painted black and White paintings with dancing words to portray them the way they should be.

I performed analytic chemical analyses in a harmony without neutering the words or sentences. I tried to articulate the chemistry of life.

It was not easy at all to socialize my individualism and write.

I struggled in every aspect.

I became an open in other words a naked man. I tried to create a realistic piece of work without fearing, covering, concealing and twisting my thoughts towards life and by giving credit to the words. Would the women about to give birth, be ashamed when delivering the baby?

Absolutely no. An effective language should be bold as a birth giving woman or should be like applying chemotherapy to a cancer patient.

Hopes and dreams are like primitive torches which light our way. For a restored, prejudice-free fair world, let kindness and love be a hope for all humanity.

Feel my respect and love in your hearts. YÜCEL DOĞAN