Ms Müller is in Göttingen’s central library, doing her daily task of studying. It is her daily bread.
Ms Müller is traditionally liberal. She wants to choose her lover, but she doesn’t want God to choose her. She wants to have a good heart of loving every being except God. She loves animals and so she is vegan. She loves people, so she is not a cannibal. Hence no partaking in Christ’s body is written in her law. Sometimes she is nicely clothed with sheep wool. Other times, she is acceptably naked.
She kisses her cat when he scratches her arms. She cleans his mess, like his pee on her bed or his poo sand. She also brushes away his fur. Yet, she, as an independent woman, does not like to do the same to her lover. She would disgust herself if her lover left the poo in the toilette or left the hair in the sink. Her disgust is not from the dirt, it can’t be. It is from not trusting men. All men is corrupt in her eyes, they are sinners and do what is wicked. Even Jesus was a sinner, the way he made people drink alcohol was one of her problem and he drank it himself when it was commanded in the law to not drink it. The law could not be changed because God was perfect and his law was perfect, too. She would never trust Jesus’s teaching when Jesus taught her to turn the other cheek or walk a mile more. What if the person to turn the other cheek was her raper. She was raped in her past by a drunkard. Why should she walk with her raper ever more. When it comes to forgiving, Ms Müller would only forgive herself and her cat. She would never forgive her raper.
She is so liberal, she doesn’t want any children, but she would like to have more cats in her household. She would rather turn into an animal than having a strong connection with her lover. What did her lover do to her?
She would read books to free herself from patriarchy except when she reads the verse from Qur’an telling her “to read”. At that moment, to rebel against the masculine order, she would choose ignorance. So, she would not continue reading it. She would only imagine about possible prophetess.
Ms Müller is a free woman: She rejects it when someone offers to help her. She is the art of saying “no” when her lover wants her to say “yes”. Jesus’s saying always “yes” is such a red flag. Proposing to her is an impossible task. She is not like men either, she would never propose to her lover by putting her dignity under her lover’s feet. No. She is at the top, at the throne, and she isn’t leaving there unless she wants to go to a summer holiday with his dad’s money. Sometimes she is daddy’s girl and sometimes a rich bastard’s girl. The bastard makes her dream come true and she screams to the bastard, “Yes, daddy! Own me”. However she would not trust God’s promise if God told her to make all her dreams come true in heaven. She had enough with that lie. She can be a bitch, but she would never be a believer. She would swim in the sea fully naked and let sun touch her nips and lips. Nonetheless, she would never want God to shine over her. She is not stupid, she is her/shey. She knows God does not exist, she knows her identity is a fluid. She is a melting chocolate under the sun, exciting people with her lust.
Ms Müller knows she is the only punisher. She punishes all with her hard work. She is intelligent, punctual, and responsible. She is in a disciplineship, not in a discipleship. She thinks God is not punctual, His time never comes. She also thinks her diamond ring is not affected by the change. Unlike her diamond she changes. She uses many beauty products to cover the change because she is angry with aging. She never likes to think about the death. She tells her scientist friends to find eternal youth. She wastes her time in the artificial world, like social medias, but she never likes to pray. If she has to think to wish, she wishes religions to die. She praises human progress, especially the concept of a modern independent women, but then she also criticises everything human-made, specifically her female boss. Politics, arts, languages, orders, law, conventions, whatever you name it. They are not perfect for her. Nothing is enough for her. This imperfection is a result of not everyone being like her, and she thirsts for me because she wants to convert me, too.
The worst is when Ms Müller holds her tears to look tough but suffers depression in the recesses of her mind. All her friendships are based on fun and travel. She never visits graveyards, she never remembers those she lost. She has no devotion, she only wills to try and liberate while herself is a slave to people with money. Even after she becomes one of the people with money, she is a slave to material wealth. She never likes the idea of being slave of God, Abdullah, but she is slave to her immoral thoughts. She is the opposite of whom Jesus helped. She is rich and healthy, this is her curse. In this material richness, she is ignorant to the spiritual wealth, Talha.
How wise Ms Müller is! She chooses being an active lesbian when God tells her to marry with a man and bear a child. Her future generation consists of only cats. Her lover changes daily like cats. Depending upon the day, who makes her the most insecure and weak, she chooses her next prey. She is a liberal, she has rights to identify herself as a toilette paper. She resists until she wants to swim. When she is baptised nothing can be left from her. Like paper she dissolves. She doesn’t recycle, she doesn’t recover. She doesn’t like the idea of afterlife, but she is picky recycling plastics, glasses, and papers other than herself.
And I am sad for her. I cry for her. I am the absolute author, Furkan.
Ms Müller never hears. She is deaf. She liberated herself from others’ thoughts. In order to heal her, the whole world went silent. The words were gone, hence, religions were gone. There was no Word of God.
Do you hear Me?
Ms Müller is studying. The whole library is silent for her success. When there is no word to distract her from her work, she is the successful one. She feels safe to be part of this scientific community. She likes to live in this universal city, university. It is her heaven, and books are her angels. By studying, she is recovering from yesterday’s party. She doesn’t want to remember this party, what has happened there, as if she could even remember it when she was that drunk. She has a sober negligence to boost her focus. Her eye lids are heavy. In every story she read, lovers are dying for each other, but she will die for no one, and nobody would die for her. She must live for sustainable solutions when the nature’s sustainable solution will be to devour her corpse when she is dead.
Ms Müller doesn’t believe in death. She doesn’t like when people war, but she fights with anyone who isn’t a liberal. She doesn’t like missionaries, but she herself is a preacher of liberalism. She travels around the world, teaching others how she knows the best. She has the best grades in school. Of course, she knows the best. There could be no being better than her, not even God. She would convert mosques and churches into museums. She has the attitude of studying history to claim it is false. She also studies law to creates her own laws. She is, in that sense, colonial, but she doesn’t belong to the colony. She is a wolf among sheep. She is not looking for a shepherd, she is only looking for the alpha, the leader of the pack. Since she is a vegan, she has no omega. She has just her beta ideas that are meta. She follows the recent trends and shapes herself based on them.
I am her lover, and I witness against her. I am Mr Öztürk.
Ms Müller is conventionally liberal. She has her own flag, her own constitution. Her constitute is not prostitute, only cons. She is not a prostitute, but she is just polyamory. She does not own a brothel but travels to any hotel. She is a free independent woman, so she charges no one. Scissoring is her fetish, she likes to own other women with her perkier breasts. She gives no fuck because no women have dicks to fuck her. She never finished a puzzle in her life. Everything is incomplete, one thick piece is always missing. Her other half is lost which means she is fully lost. She can’t be one.
How can I wake her up from her eternal sleep?
Ms Müller is done with her daily bread. She is not hungry anymore, but she is surely tired. She is seeking emotional comfort while fearing it. Her mind is blurry and suicidal. There is no Jesus to heal her. There are only temptations of life, and she oscillates in between them. She imagines herself happy while working, she believes it to be true. She is wrong, she is not happy at all.
Ms Müller is looking at the beautiful view idly. The image is a void for her. How can I approach her when she doesn’t even see this beautiful view?
She is wearing blinkers to avoid eye contact. From whichever way my love is exposed, she would face somewhere else to avoid my eye contact. It is in her nature to avoid beings while claiming to love them. She is never satisfied with them. She is only offended when you praise her beauty. She always finds and reveals the others’ mistakes. She feels superior by doing that. For her, I am a sinner, Jesus. She decides on my worth basing how much I can make her laugh.
I am no jester. I would serve her verily, doing anything I can, but I would not let her take my self-respect away. I could give it, but I know upon taking it she would leave me instantly.
I want to cry with Ms Müller together, out of love and compassion. Too loud laughs are for clowns, they carry no meaning. Contrarily, a real cry is the result of gratitude, not pain. The real cry is priceless. How could she be this grateful when she had her make up on? She wouldn’t dare to cry just because she wouldn’t want to waste her make up. Her mascara could run, she would not want that.
I could clean her hairy armpits, wash away her period blood, apply natural oils over her hair, kiss her everywhere, carry her home… She would not want anything I could do. She would distance herself away from me the more vulnerable I get for her. This is a fear by her, not of losing but of winning. Too utopian, too fake to receive real love on earth. One night stands are helping her with her daily needs. She is not hungry. She studied. She is experienced. Which equals to she is not innocent anymore. When she is full, even the greatest food would make you vomit. Imagine missing the fruit of eternal life.
Ms Müller is gorgeous. More heavenly than any other being. She is playing with her fair hair inside the library, thinking. She is taking her coat off from her shoulders. She is serious and concerned. Can she realise her mistake and love me? Can we cry together on our previous mistakes and heal ourselves together? Is there a chance for us? If there is, she must leave her pride behind and propose me. If she agrees, I will wash her feet and lick the salty tears out from her cheeks. I will water her and our relationship every day, forever. She will be my Hannah, the grace from God.
Ms Müller avoids eye-contact. She is too tender and emotional in heart. She must accept her emotions to be real, and we will be together, living free from the chains of freedom. It is hard to change. All is well though. She doesn’t let others help her, her yoke is the heaviest. I am the only person to carry her yoke. This is what the spirit reveals. She sees it despite her blinkers. She can’t accept it, yet. She didn’t witness any spirit before. She only saw tough life. She had rich but soulless parents. She had everything except the spirit. Thence, she had nothing.
“We should cry together. This is love” is what is heard by our hearts. By weeping we must rejoice. “Give your worries to me and I shall bind you in love forever”. This is the promise.
“It is so hard” I said. “My palms are sweating. Why love is so impossibly hard. How in the impossible world we must find a possible way out? Why is the path so narrow and the bridge so thin”?
“Who can laugh when one must cry? All world must cry with her together. The cries are the ocean, and my love is the world”.
Ms Müller feared the spirit and she went out from the library, escaping from the presence of the ghost. She ran away from my silent speech. She wasn’t hungry enough to face love. If she could cry bravely, her blinkers would fall off. Her hearing would recover. She would hear my silent words. The spiritual would manifest itself in physical. Our lungs would be filled with rose smell. We would learn to taste the truth together. We still will when we leave our work behind and rest together. Maybe she didn’t hear my mute voice, she will be reading it. And after that is our new creation. We will make flowers blossom with our pure tears.
A small water bottle filled with water carries more information than any knowledge on earth combined. The bottle she did not let me pick it up for her will make her come to me when it is emptied. She will be thirsty enough to see the value of my tears. The value of Sucan.
May our tears bind Us forever.
Amen.