Draftlardan ne buldum bugun! Sevglime Cem Mumcu’nun Ask ve Kedi oykusunu cevirmisim.
The Love and the Cat
A name has to be given to the cat. The cat looked like anything other than a cat, the cat looked like nothing other than a cat. Just like you… Therefore it was hard to name it… I named it “beyond” Because in it I have seen more than I have seen, more beyond. Or better said, I thought I had seen; meaning I believed. Can any other word, other than believing express my state? I can say to be anxious. Would it make you decrease if said that? Would it make a difference if I am the one who makes you increase, who makes you you, who supposes you are you? Anyway, isn’t love supposing he was “the one”, reaching “the one” from him, making him “the one”? Isn’t it reaching a beyond beyond you?
But why can’t anybody fall in love anymore? When everybody is actually looking for “the one”, why do the possibilities of reaching beyond extinct in one night? How does that happen and all our anxieties end in an evening? Why do we look for possibilities in many people instead of digging it out in “one” person? Could it be the abundance of possibilities that limits the possibility? Is it the abundance that imprisons us to absence? Can we find the oneness in the abundance? What is it that made us forget that we could only find the things we are looking for in the deep or up in the hills by deep diving or flying? Could it be the abundance if the possibilities we meet on the surface of horizontal plane which feels wide and endless? Although all of us are looking for “the one”, why can’t anybody be “the one” to anyone? Is it because every time we say this is not “the one” either, we can easily find the possibility of another “one” and consume it? Is it because all of us easily give the opportunity of consuming each other to each other? Like a furniture we put no effort on because it was easy to find and buy a new one or like a book we just looked at the cover but never read and just because of that we did not, could not see and missed the possibilities inside –maybe a word explaining the secret of life…Can this water, which we thought will never end and will flow forever, fill our bucket with a leak under?
However, finding you, you being “the one” require halting at you, waiting at you, sweating at you, flying at you, drowning at you. Because nobody other than you can make me, nobody other than I can make you “the one”.
They think that, if I stay at you, stay with you and you stay at me, stay with me; we would lose the endless possibility left. They think that I will end up your possibilities and you will end up mine. Yet, I like your uniqueness in all the possibilities. I like to stay at you when I have the possibility to leave. I like the deepness of staying at you, the possibilities of stopping at you, fearing that something might happen to you, waking up to see you and holding your arm. I like your fear of me letting your arm go, my fear that I might not be able to hold your arm. I like my power of leaving if I want to, your power of leaving if you want to but not leaving although we have that power. I like my choosing to stay at you insistently and endlessly, I like reading you for long but not finishing, I like my freedom in you. I like our wanting to be tied down with this handcuffs of which we both have the keys and the fear that appears in our eyes when we don’t hear the clatter of the handcuffs.
I named the cat as “beyond”. I saw it in the middle of life and death, freedom and imprisonment, known and the unknown, abundance and oneness, leaving and staying. It was both bold and uneasy. Because he had to choose. Choosing meant freedom. And freedom was hell of a job to do. Because it meant responsibility. When there was no other possibility, there was no choice. But even one single other alternative meant choosing. Three things was it what the beautiful “beyond” could do. The two of them could make it happy in some way. Third alternative was the only alternative that would make him unhappy. The two things were coming with me or staying there. He would miss the things he could have lived there if he came with me, he would miss the things he could have lived with me if he stayed there. But if he didn’t do any of them and stayed at the crossroads instead, he would only wait. Like the people who wait because they cannot decide which one is a better alternative or who make out quick and dirty at the crossroads… Like the ones who make out everyday not to miss that one but not really make out with anyone, whose sex can never fill up their bucket… Like the empty sex, where everybody thinks that they have been inside everyone but actually no one has ever got, no one could get inside anyone. Like the ones who stay at the crossroads with fear because they are indecisive due to the abundance of roads and cannot see the freedom of returning from there, who miss all those beauties they could see on the road they could have selected or thousands of new opportunities on the rest of the road.. Like the coward men and women who are called “solitary”
The cat deserved the name “beyond” even if he did not choose me.