I’m sad today. And no, I don’t need numerology or astrology or any prophets at all to find out that I’m like the moon 😊. And I do admire the newly risen commercially oriented sexologist and almost established influencer in Bulgaria Natalia Kobilkina, as she says in one of her competent videos, she doesn’t care about the protests in America or anything else, as she lives pretty fine in her own micro-world.
Well, I function differently.
Because my world is not only mine and the outside world is not only foreign. Because there is something called “collective memory” and that thing connects us throughout the ages beyond borders and generations.
I understand more than ever the concept of “thinking with an open mind,” the concept of being able to see the whole, not just observing and perceiving from one’s own limited point of view – a quality that, on the contrary to all evolutionary laws, turns out to be underdeveloped nowadays. On the contrary to the laws of evolution, we do not become wiser, but only more arrogant, more unforgiving, more narcissistic, and more sticking to the only one worldview (!) – ours. To turn a Hagia Sophia https://www.hagiasophia.com/ without thinking too much into a mosque is a sad proof of trampling on and neglecting the collective memory.
And The Hagia Sophia is a part of it. Just like the Egyptian obelisk, just like the Fountain of Wilhelm II in Istanbul. I was there, in the church, and I saw it with my own eyes, and most of all, I felt it. A centuries-old story with lots of intertwined destinies. Look into the eyes of the icons on the walls and let us see if you can stay unaffected by the flow of history. And I keep asking myself “Does Muhammad need that much? So much noise? All that ostentatiousness? Such a gesture?” I doubt it, because I spoke to him in June a year ago in private in the Haci Bayram https://kvmgm.ktb.gov.tr/TR-43999/ankara—haci-bayram-camii.html mosque in Ankara.
When I traveled for a second time to Istanbul 2012, alone and by bus, I heard from the guide the whole story of Ataturk again, including the romantic love story about him and a beautiful Bulgarian girl. Last year in Ankara, I was so impressed to see him, looking at me from a portrait from almost every corner. Now I understand more than ever why. Turkey needs an Ataturk nowadays, but he isn’t here. He isn’t here.
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