I Need a Paper
A traditional necessity, a timeless urge to scribble down my thoughts
“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking.”
— Joan Didion
Occasionally, I listen to the grey sound around me. The sound of the wind in my right ear as I walk, the rustle of leaves, and the birdsong coming from all around. I listen and I lose myself in thoughts when there's nothing to do. I watch clouds of different shapes, and I start imagining.
I like to think of life as an endless ocean. What begins as a small puddle gradually becomes a stream, a lake, a sea, and finally an ocean whose depth we may never fully understand.
Inner Pages was created to explore the thoughts that dwell beneath the surface, to remember the storms from the days when the ocean was still only a lake, and to come to terms with the ships lost at sea. Week after week, a raindrop from the sky would find its way to the depths of the ocean, touching what had settled there, enriching it, reshaping it, or gently changing its direction.
I wrote about the echoes carried from the depths. I enjoyed every moment of it, and I am proud of what it became. What made me happiest, however, was reading the reactions, reflections, and thoughts shared by you, the readers. Thank you.
Inner Pages began as something I was deeply passionate about. Over time, though, it also became a deadline, a column I felt obliged to fill with my feelings, week after week. There it was, a little light from somewhere far, perhaps from a lighthouse, sending me a signal, trying to tell me that changes are coming.
It scared me a little when I thought about changing the concept, the theme, the whys and the hows. But it was inevitable, impossible to ignore. I listened to the birdsong, closed my eyes, and felt the wind on my cheeks. I couldn’t quite figure it out. I couldn’t find answers to the whys or the hows. I opened my eyes and reached for a pen and paper. As I wrote the first letter, clumsily guided by my left-handed fountain pen skills, something shifted. The pen seemed to speak to me. It connected me to the paper and gave shape to the thoughts that had been drifting through my mind. What had felt tangled and uncertain slowly began to organise itself, line by line.
It made me realise that my attention no longer belonged solely to the echoes rising from the depths of the ocean but also to the drops floating on its surface. The paper boats drifting on the water. The sparkle of sunlight dancing on the waves. The new experiences that continue to find their way into the ocean, into my life.
I needed a piece of paper to understand, to make sense of it all, and ultimately, to share it.
I needed and I need a paper.
Here, I talk about my YouTube addiction.
I’ve started preparing myself to go to El Observatorio end of this month. It’ll be my second time there. I’m quite excited and happy. It's a little interesting for me to be happy about it. Because I’m one of those people who don’t enjoy a concert. I mean, I complain a lot, and I’m a short king. Concept of a concert is just not for me. However, I love Obersatorio; I hope to share a lot from there!
Ali Baran Y.
