City view

This sky, and this world looking down—there is a silent agreement between them. Every day, I stand on the edge of this roof, and I look at this familiar world around me with my eyes filled with tears. Above is the vast, empty blue sky, like a canvas stretching far and wide, and below is life moving at its own pace.

​This area is a strange mix. On one side, new, shiny multi-story buildings stand tall, like symbols of modernity; on the other side, tin roofs and old, painted houses, which still hold on to their roots. Greenery seems to be fighting its last battle in this concrete jungle. When you see vegetable gardens on the roofs of some houses or flowers in two or four pots, it seems that people have not yet forgotten nature. The trees seem to stand with their chests raised, carrying a little message of peace in this kingdom of bricks and stones.

​Looking into the distance, the city seems to become denser. The towers, the minarets of the mosques, and the countless rooftops—all together create a gray-blue line on the horizon. Life is faster, busier there. But from here, from this quiet rooftop, even that busyness seems somehow calm, distant.
​When the morning or evening light touches this entire scene, a new play of colors begins. Everything turns golden in the soft light of the sun, and this city looks very magical. Again, at night, when all the lights around it light up, it seems as if thousands of fireflies have lit up together.

​This scene is not just a scene, it is like a collection of thousands of stories. There may be a dream in each window, a personal sky in each rooftop. The laughter and tears, hopes and disappointments of those who live in these houses—everything is mixed with this soil.
​I am just a viewer. This rooftop is a window to me, through which I see this endless flow of life. It's my own time, when I breathe and feel that I am a part of this vast and busy world. This silence and this view, every time, help me find a new meaning in life.