Broken Stones

“…Someone's character was reflected in each bottle; carefully cut fabric in thin elegant bottles pieces danglings Hasan's It was his job. of bottles on smiling faces Azat, complicated devices was pointing to Aziz. The simple and effective ones belonged to Sefkan, the flashy and scary ones belonged to Savaş. I show my difference here too. Even though Azat teases me by saying "it's a girl's thing", I don't compromise on my colorfulness. I wasn't giving it. It was the golden age of our little group. He comes home sweaty, muddy, or injured , In this way, we could escape the control of adults. After all, each of us is a fast runner and We had become the strategists this required. We insist on not growing up and clinging to childhood Even though we are careful not to step into the boring world of adults, life closes in on us like a trap. It was closing…”

Dangerous And eerie times. of children child like can't grow years. Your absence of misery, The dark streets of a coastal city where pain and death surround everything . At the age of seven or eight, But it is the heartbreaking story of a group of children who also shouldered the burden of the generations before them. Themselves none One time Small one each child like without seeing if they grow up And destiny each someone Even though he is subjected to pain and suffering specific to his characters , he is still against time, which has no healing aspect. To life smiling to hold on worker sensitive spirited assets them. Halden doesn't understand parent- forward, lime lime their lives, dusty And muddy streets, unplastered houses, ruined dilapidated, don't compile don't shout dreams there is, What gamut! Them to laugh And hope to do he knows, of the world all troubles And their pain we ran- If their voices rain down on the streets and the current carries them away from life, far from their dreams, into the reign of despair. to the shores drag it also…

Broken stones! An era, a generation, through the eyes of a girl of a people, of a country story…