Tuğcan’s voice was thinner than the other boy’s who continued talking;
- Another thing you should realize is that schools are not interested in art, especially music. We have to be at the university to do something about music using the instruments of the school. High schools are established to teach us Maths and Science ,which the government thinks everybody has to learn, and prepare us for the university enterance exam.
- Why are you talking as if you were older than me while we are both fifteen?
- Because I look so…
- How?
- You don’t look more than twelve with the height of 155 cm!
- And you look like a pine tree!
- Come here you little thing!
They started running. I can hear them but I still haven’t looked at them because I liked their behaving naturally and ignoring me. “Ataman! I’m going home” shouted Tuğcan. “Let’s get rid of these disgusting uniforms and meet here in fifteen minutes.” answered Ataman. Now they’re gone and I’m waiting for them as if they gave an appointment to me to meet here. Im looking forward to hear them again…
- Here is my laptop.
- We should have thought about it before. Come on, let’s start.
They’re back and I’m curious now. What can be related to school, computer and music?
“Start the program” said Ataman. This sound is familiar to me. I know this program. I have used it when I was in the university. Some of my friends liked my song but I didn’t compose another song. The boys are going to use this program now to compose a song. Should I help them? Should I share my experience? I have learnt how to use that program on my own. Would I feel intelligent if someone else had helped me? I don’t think so. I must sit still and just listen to the song that they have already started to compose. Nice start…
It has been nearly one hour. They worked hard but they have created a very nice song. While they were working some girls passed by talking to each other and giggling. It is impossible to understand why young girls giggle that much.
The day started for the other people too. A couple is passing now arguing very loudly and angrily. I can’t give any meaning to behaviour. Why people ruin this wonderful view by arguing about daily things?
- Big city life na na na na na…
Ataman gave me the answer. By the way I wasn’t expecting them to write lyrics but then I realized that there is no better place in İstanbul to write a song.
- Pressure na na….
- Oh, no matter how hard we try.
Howcome? They are doing very well but those words are like an adult’s words. They continue;
- Big city life… my heart has no base…
- People in a show, all lined in a row.
Too pessimistic… What can be the reason to make fifteen years old children write these lyrics?
- Don’t you wanna know me? Be a friend of mine
- I’ll share some wisdom with you
Yes! I’m excited and ready to hear the rest. I wonder what those intelligent children can advise me.
- Don’t you ever get lonely?
- From time to time…
Are they writing lyrics or talking to me? I do feel lonely from time to time and I look for a friend but I never get satisfying answers from those so-called adult friends. I wish I could talk to those fifteen years olds when I have a problem because the last sentence that I heard is nothing that I heard before neither from my collegues nor from my family.
“Don’t let the system get you down.”
I must talk to them and show my appreciation. I must turn back and look at them for the first time. I will do it. Maybe I will help them in their future projects. I must do it now. I stand up turn back but.. It can’t be possible. They can’t have gone in such a short time. Where are they? I think they would be good friends to talk to but it seems that the only friend I have right now is the sea. Maybe there wasn’t anyone else… There haven’t been anyone else apart from the sea and me since I came here. Were they all imaginary? Am I going mad? If I have only sea as a friend, why don’t I just jump into it and forget all of my problems instead of trying to discuss them with –maybe imaginary- people…
Jumping into the sea woke me up. Thank God, at least I’m not hearing imaginary people. I’m looking at the monitor of the computer which my son left switched on last night. The song is still playing: “Mattafix – Big City Life”
I get up, wash my face and look at the mirror. I see that I havent been paying attention to my appearence lately. I “really” need a vacation.
Semih Sönmez
