Mosaic

We eat Çekirdek. The mountain keeps on growing, my lips are burning from the salt, but I cannot stop. It helps me think. The second lockdown in Berlin means that I am unemployed again, the second time this year. First I have lost my beloved job in a bar, and now the one in the shisha cafe. My family doesn’t have any advice either, they are absolutely overstrained with homeschooling and their kids.

How about doing escort, my cousin jokes. Or selling you used underwear anonymously in the internet, says his wife – and we start to fight. My mum says I just should marry a rich man. Maktub, I answer and pray to find my focus and to keep my wits.

My Hala is in the hospital, Corona. Poor woman, she’s old and takes all kinds of pills, and now she has caught the virus. She has contracted it from her husband, who’s a waiter. Like I am. Therefore my parents don’t let me visit them. Also not after over a year. Their fear is too big. And somehow I can understand them.

All the changes make me feel afraid too. I live through traumas, work on family issues and try to heal somehow. My relationships have changed, they untangle and show their true face. Friendships fall apart. Loneliness creeps in and I am driven to the edge of my anti-social being. Simply everything is different. I dare to start anew and move into a flatshare, with a cat. His name is Jibbie.