7

He was doing something that made the audience burst out laughing. The women didn't even care, in the end the woman stopped to wait for the horse carriage in a corner, ignored the comedian and when the comedian saw that he couldn't succeed again after breaking down so much to get her attention, she looked at the audience. From that perspective, this time she started acting like the woman wasn't there, I guess the events that societies understand funny are different from each other.

I can't laugh at the events that a western child laughs at, but I still know that it's the best thing I can do with a cold soda in my hand on this hot summer evening. The night had advanced quite a bit by the end of two movies and the wind had started to blow for a few seconds, albeit with difficulty.

There was a sissy boy right in front of me, he had snow-white socks under his short pants.

His father wore a jacket and tie instead of a long dress, and his mother preferred a skirt and jacket instead of a black chador, as if they were not from this country, as if our president Hafiz Esat and his wife had come to the cinema.

His eyes were smiling as he looked at his father's child, he was happy, I raised my head and glanced at my own father. My father didn't know I was looking at him at that moment, it was obvious he was thinking sweet thoughts; maybe the comedy movie was entertaining him.

The mysterious crowd had diminished a little and we had finally entered our dark street.

The strange lights of the square in the market had started to remain in the distance. The square was evacuated very quickly with the end of the second movie.

The wet soil had turned into mud as a result of the horses urinating randomly in the square.

A horse carriage was standing a meter away from the screen, my favorite thing as a child was to run after the horse carriages and hang on. A dark-eyed man was leaning against the white brick wall, trying to smoke his rolled tobacco in his hand.

He looked at my face with dull eyes, when I raised my arm to silently greet the little boy next to him, he raised it too, but he raised it less, when I turned back, I saw him looking at them with slightly scary looks, they passed a car with a dull orange lamp burning inside.

We wanted to get home as soon as possible and go to sleep, for me the most beautiful hour of the day had come. I started to sleep on the roof of the wooden house, watching the stars.

Instead of sleeping, my father placed his Russian vodka on the wooden table and drank it on his wooden chair.

In our country, not only vodka, but everything we use comes from Russia.

For a moment, I felt his hands in my hair, then he grabbed me by the armpits and lifted me up.

When he was drunk, he was a much more affectionate father.

I felt that his hair and beard had come because the beard he had applied while kissing me had sunk into my face, and his friend's eyes showed interest and affection.

They rarely laughed, they were a little shy and acted as if they had done something forbidden.

I don't remember my father kissing my cheeks often.

That's why my cheeks have always turned red whenever he showed me affection.

He said "well done" to me in front of his friend at night, then he turned to his friend and said,

"My son is only six years old, but he can easily read the letters I couldn't read when I was ten."

I felt my father was proud of me from the tone in his voice.

I would like him to turn to his friend and say, "How beautifully you fight, my son."

I thought he was disappointed in me when I gave the wrong answer in the quiz contest held among the fifth graders at school. Apart from that, he had full confidence in me. He believed that I would study at a quality middle school. I also thought if I could fight, if I was aggressive, I would impress my father with my other qualities instead of him bragging about just being educated.

"Don't you dare brag, Muhammed Nekkar," my father used to say.

That was what it meant. If you are not brave, don't you dare brag about your intelligence!

You have nothing to be rewarded for, don't you dare be arrogant!

Allah does not like arrogant people who say they created small mountains.

Our playground was an empty lot slightly higher than the yellowed pavement, covered in mud in some places and pooped on by horses and dogs in others.

A medium-sized tree rose one meter in from the pavement. During the day, we would sit in the shade of the tree and play marbles.

There was also a layer of lime on the tree that could not be easily dissolved.

Every day at six in the morning, the barber would come to this lot with a chair in his hand and wait for customers.

In rainy weather, he would use a friend's shop and cut his customers' hair in a corner of his shop.

When you sat there, the trunk of the tree would even cover the weak light of the street lamp in the hotel, but it would be a savior for us in the summer heat.

In the evenings when we went to the city center and returned home, we would really start from the middle of the road and as a group of friends, we would throw our men faster.

I stopped for a moment at the edge of the sidewalk and then went to the lot without waiting.

I waited for my friends to come so that I could set up a game for myself, a man was coming from the other end of the street, he was coming so fast; when he stopped to take a quick breath, he didn't even turn his head, then suddenly turned around and went back to the middle of the square, he rubbed his fingers on the handkerchief he took out of his pocket.