BİZİM İÇİN REKLAM DEĞER ÜRETİRKEN HESAP VEREBİLMEKTİR...

          It's raining on everything and everyone. Everything will be alarmed. A single earth will wait. Keys will be searched, then doors will be forced. First the drops will accumulate on the soil, then our separations will fall in front of the floods. This is happening every time it rains.

 

 

I don't know how much to begin with. What I'm doing is that most people say it's not a repair. When I get a broken lock in front of me, I often don't know what to wear or oil. He'il listen to what he's been through, I'il send a few things to him. But it starts when I'm alone with him. Who knows what hands will feel broken and crushed in my heart? When I open the rusty rag in front of me, I can see where the human roughness can go, what a key, a force can do to a lock slot. Then, starting with the latch, I wipe the core, plug and springs with gauze. It comes to you, breathes as if it is a lock. If there is a missing piece, I can not say that when I insert and turn the key several times. It's okay after you give me the oil. The lock is now ready for new hands, new doors. When I open the door and walk in, the light that I shed will fall into the darkness that will remain from me. Let me find someone; It comes to me to fall into a pinch of light. Maybe this is my only relationship to the doors. This is not the will to live; In the world of locks, to be certain that I have a key. I want them to know when I'm giving them to the future. I don't want to pass through the doors. It's not like we're not going through it. If they want to give my love of mold, if I can settle in courtyards. To sleep in the threshold, listen to the sound of sliders maybe I want. I said either the size of the doors, the smallness of the locks, the innovation is important for me. He throws my steps according to day vision; I'il adjust my stance to her. Especially if they are wooden-loving, rain-loving, they change the whole, the venture or the exit. Descends; I like to fall back. If I'm only a little bit, I'm gonna run. way out; I climb up the ladder to the railing. I don't run every lock of my eye. I know what I'm going to say about living up and down. This is my prick, my business.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

          It's raining. The most common keys will be searched. The locks will turn into a couple, to be obedient, to be forced, but in the hands of the rain will be left to the impatient helplessness of the hands.

 

 

I waited for the next night. Hand was pulled from the streets. When I got out of the house and came to the street, my anxiety increased. I was doing this for the first time. I couldn't come back after years of waiting. Most of the time they took me to the thief. I don't think they're going to have the courage to do that after they've worked their locks for so many years. Most of them came to my door, although I couldn't. I know the inside out. For the last time, I walked around the yard. Maybe I shouldn't have come here in the middle of the night. I just came back. I checked the lock bed by hand. There was no bed. They stole it, they got ripped off, they took it, but the only truth was his absence. I scrunched my hand again. It was understood that it was taken from the traces of the nails rough, and it was stolen. What was my intention? The locks of the east are decorated and spoiled. I know how to love him. At least I know that. I deserve the most. Has the area seen the life of the principal lock the Kaaba in life? I saw it. All my labor has been wasted. It didn't look like it from the outside, but I had to understand. It was the door that fooled me; I didn't expect it would be so thick. It's only the latch slot seen from the outside. I have no excitement. I crossed the courtyard and headed for the stairs. They shot a padlock on the green door downstairs. There's no sign of a single window. It must be a single house. There are many here; in winter they return to the village in the summer. I headed up the wooden staircase to get to the second floor. I went up the ladder, though the first three steps were broken. The outside door was not locked. I'm surprised, I didn't know it would be that easy. I was prepared to actually enter this house. I went in and opened the door to make it look like I wasn't a thief. No matter what happens, they're not much. The light from the inside of the house was seen to have been removed and the wooden floors of the house were removed. I went to the back rooms in the dark. I stepped into a room. After a few steps, I couldn't stand the smell of pee that burned me. Even the light of the street did not leak into the room, and they closed the windows with the board. I burned my cigarette lighter and passed through the narrow and short hall in a little light, but I turned to the door leaked. This place should be a big hall. As I walked into it, I realized that one corner collapsed and most of its light came from here. All the windows here are broken. I walked into that corner, ignoring the bottles of liquor on the floor. Yes, a good landscape for the realm, the city is unlikely to see here. It was not in vain that the inhabitants inhabited this place. It's time to take advantage of their equipment. I was cold. I came back and picked up some wood from the cracked door. My fire is ready now. I didn't put it in the corner until the fire on the can. I swallowed it, then dragged it and pulled me in front of the old seat. No more will say no more. You can't see me here. I'm buried in the lights left out of people and the city, but it also warms me up thinking about them. As I looked at the city, I noticed that the color of the light changed from the center to the halos. As I spread from the white to the suburbs, the fatigue of the yellowish light was filled to my eyes. This light is the same tone, even if the light is not leaking through the doors closing in my face. No more doubts. I'm not satisfied with the warmth of the quilts, and I don't repair the locks of light spines. I haven't been to your door. I always drew a light from the darkness of the night, the hearts of their souls, their hearts. I don't know how long I've been here. The night will be back at night. As if he had found everything in his way to white, the horizon began to illuminate as if it had come to this city. I shall testify that this sinister light will persist in its own way, by gnawing in the darkness. How long has it been? The fire in front of me in the dark was reduced. I look at the city; The yellow and poor lights surrounding the center will soon disappear. First, their owners will rise up and depart for the white and rich light. They will turn towards the light to stand up from their beds and subtract one day longer than the butterflies. They're going to dress up, open the doors they lock on them. The bolt, the sound of the keys; The voices will multiply, and they will find a way through this cry, and your way and your butterfly. I always wonder, how do they deal with the darkness of the day? How many people forget the work, but the ones who realize it? They're going to rush through a rush and get rich white. In the evening, they will return a little more soiled. My old soul does not understand; that everything happens slowly. Slowly the movement of darkness, light and people. The lights will fade and the day will blow. The city will take the shades of green to green, green to orange. And then many things that will get yellow from the frosty orange. I know it will be like that. The post? It's not my job to say the next. My fire was on fire. I have to get back to the light before it gets any more. I got out of the house and threw myself out on the street like I wasn't the curious eyes of the night. Not in sight. After that, I know it's easy.

 

 

         It's raining. In hearts that are loved, they will step on with the same smile in the cuckold. They will be taken to the shelter behind the doors. With a few drops from the right-wing, they will be glad to get rid of them. The white breath from their mouths will pass over time and they will check their keys in their pockets.

 

Don't look at anyone who actually says they're going to lock himself. It's a lie. They think that they are involved in the work with the unknown. They're going to say that they're going to build up the feeling they can't interfere with. Well, that's not the case. Who revealed his own lock? Do you have the key hanging around your neck? No. What else is life apart from tampering with someone else's keys? It is the shortest way to say fate when you stare at someone else's door without seeing the uniqueness of their lives. The strange thing here is that they discovered the key and joined this revolution. Don't be fooled by anyone who says you're a monkey. No, nothing like that. Every lock has a key. They don't tell me that they can lock the doors behind them and save them from the glass. These fake locksmiths, if he took them in and saw his betrayal; It doesn't help. There are many such doors in the hands of a door to the door. I don't say anything to you, it's your door. Maybe that's where I've gone before I don't put my keys on the table. I often see the benefit. Everyone sees what I'll see at the door. Even if he doesn't know the key, he'il come closer to his brink. It's nothing less than someone on the verge of being around. Increases in my love. To those who believe in the crust that there is a threshold of one being, to those who do not leave the threshold of others. I don't like that, it's not right for me. I do not know that there is a small hope in them though; it brings me closer to them. It's not the name, but it's my name. I am happy to speak to them and try to solve them. I don't intend to seize them. It is because I want them to know that I have a door; I won't let them step on my threshold.

 

 

 

       It's raining. I'm thinking about the drops that are leaking through the hole, the ones who lost their keys. Raindrops falling on my bed rust smelling. I touch the drops from the mattress that are stuck. My fingers are playing boza. When do I get to the drops?