Postcards From…
Hello, my darling, how are you? It's nice to see you here.
I feel so privileged to meet you. To speak future truths with you.
My name is Füsun. It wasn't always my name, but that's who I've become in recent years. Let's go for a walk. I want you to do one thing for me. Just one thing. If you like my words, please share them with others. Words only become truth when all ears hear them.
I've never written a book. I wish I could. I want to. I will. I have an idea for a book and I will push forward. But for now, I'm here.
Despite this, I consider myself a novelist. It sounds odd. Yes. Because it is. In actuality, I've written a thousand novels. Only, I haven't written them. I've lived them.
For many years, the loneliness of being a writer has haunted me. It's the loneliest pursuit. I've always had a den of characters living in my mind. They are all individuals. All very much alive. Yet, I'm still lonely.
I've put myself in the shoes of a thousand characters. I've been then. I've seen them. I've lived my life like them. Now, I'm ready to stop. Now, I'm ready to be me.
So, who am I?
That's a good question. I don't really have an answer, but I'll try.
I was born in 1995. My memories from this time come in fragments. For example, I remember the smell of cement on a cold March day at a construction site, where I stood shivering beside my twin sister. I don't know why I remember that, but I do.
The deep unease I felt as a child has also persisted in my mind. When I first became aware of my reflection, it scared me. It was like looking at the bogeyman. It wasn't me. The fear I felt of myself - raw and unrelenting - came from not recognising or liking the boy staring back at me. I smiled in mirrors, trying to mask how forlorn I was, but as I grew older, I understood. I wasn't a boy at all.
For the past 12 years, I've worked as a sex worker in Istanbul and Amsterdam. It's a life that has both consumed and shaped me. Those years have been a strange maze of extremes. Love and heartbreak, life and death, rage and quiet resignation. Strangely, I wouldn't trade them for all the tobacco in the world.
I've gathered a lifetime of stories, memories, and truths—some heavy, some beautiful. And now I know I don't have to carry them alone. This is where I'll share them with you.
I also write poems.
Welcome to my world. Join me.
With love,
Füsun Aydın.
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