In the heart of an old, silent neighborhood stood a grand mansion, its windows veiled in the dust of time, its walls crumbling into ruins. Once, it had been full of life, but now it lingered like a memory of the past. The echoes of laughter and warm conversations had faded, replaced by the quiet presence of a few young souls who had made it their home.

These young dreamers had decided to turn the old house into something new—a place of their own. In the mansion’s garden, there was nothing but dry, lifeless earth. To most, it was just a patch of land, but to them, it was more. It was a promise, a canvas on which they would paint a future filled with hope and love.

As the weeks passed, they began their work. Ayşe, whose hands were always deep in the soil, carefully planted flowers and herbs. Ahmet and Serim often stood beside her, listening to her stories while their hands, covered in dirt, tended to the earth. Kıvanç, meanwhile, was busy cutting away the dry branches of the old trees, making space for new ones to grow. As Ayşe lost herself in the world of plants and soil, she nurtured young saplings, ensuring they took root in their new home.

At night, they would return to the mansion, exhausted and covered in earth. They would sit together and talk—not just about their daily struggles but also about their dreams, childhood memories, and the future they were building together. What they had found among one another was not just companionship but something far deeper. Love and effort had created a bond between them—one that extended beyond themselves, reaching into the very soil they tended, the walls they repaired, and the life they were breathing into the house.

Time passed, and the garden slowly came to life. Flowers began to bloom, pushing through the once barren ground. What had been dry and desolate now thrived with green and color. Each morning, the first thing they saw was the beauty they had built with their own hands.

But more than anything, the garden and the house stood as a reminder: even in the heart of ruins, love, dedication, and hard work could create something new, something full of life.

Now, they had a place—a home built not just of bricks and wood but of memories, hope, and the dreams they had sown together.

Home:

Home is a beautiful word. We can attribute it to our country, the place we live, our family home, or even the hearts of our loved ones. For me, home is wherever I feel safe. Have you ever thought about how emotions are far more complex than words? Words cannot fully capture emotions, but I promise to do my best to express mine here.

When I left home, I felt sick—like a vast emptiness had taken over me. Fear is a feeling I have carried for years. Yes, I felt abandoned, and now, with all my heart, I say: enough. I want to be somewhere I can finally feel safe.

Our home was always filled with people—endless conversations, learning something new every day, helping one another, growing together. But sadly, none of that fit into my suitcase. My mind was clouded; I knew nothing, wanted nothing, and it felt as if I no longer belonged anywhere. In a way, I ceased to exist. Home was lost to me—perhaps I had lost it. Somewhere far from home, in a season of homelessness, I found myself in a grand mansion.

My silence was swallowed by the silence of the mansion. I had been away from home for so long that I may have even forgotten how to speak. Do you remember when I said emotions are more complex than words? I wonder if you do—just like when I lost myself in my own mind within that enchanted mansion. Yes, enchanted—believe me, I am not exaggerating. A centuries-old mansion, filled with the echoes of countless lives, its high walls and domed ceiling…

The strange thing is, I had just set foot in this mansion for the first time, and now, I am telling you this story from within its walls.

The owner of the mansion was a sharp-featured, innocent, and kind person. The place was full of people, stirring odd feelings inside me—almost like déjà vu. These were people brimming with peace and life. Oh, my dear, how beautifully they danced with life! I think it was this mansion that gave them life. I felt like a child learning to walk again. I had forgotten that people could love each other, that we shine the brightest when we are together. The mansion and its people reminded me of this once more.

They were beings of light—glowing, radiating. And clearly, this glow was the result of inner peace, of living without judgment. It was the result of accepting oneself and others as they are. How good I feel, and how deeply I belong to these people.

Did you know, I often speak with myself? And without friendship to bridge the gap, how could we ever endure?

Amaneh Abyar