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They were emitting enough light to illuminate the entire neighborhood. My father slowly stood up to his feet, plunging his gun. He took the cigarette from his pocket and blew it in the afternoon.

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Veysel was waiting all alone for three hours. The handbag did not even move a single inch. It seems that the infinities between the two dudes have been sealed. Nobody came. He remembered for a moment that he was waiting, but then he gave up again. He thought that people who were so close to him would surely come. He had not seen evil until now. He tried to treat them as well as they could. These were his mother, his father and his fiancée. She was a housewife in her 40s. His father was the general editor of a local newspaper. This was in fact rather insignificant, because the newspaper already consisted of six people. An important detail to be quoted was that the journalist was Kurdish in the editorial and other employees. Yes, Veysel was a child of a Kurdish family born and raised in Diyarbakir. His father did not hesitate to say this with pride.
"Yes I am a Kurdish who is born and raised in this country, living proudly. "

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Bozbel, Berk
Berk Bozbel geboren im Jahre 1998 in Erlangen. Nachdem er sein Abitur in Istanbul gemacht hat, fing er an, an der Erlangen-Nürnberg Universität Politikwissenschaft zu studieren. Er schreibt Kurzgeschichten, Theaterstücke und Sketche fürs Fernsehen.

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