I like to question cultural biases wherever I go, and I question Islamophobia as much as I question anti-western sentiment because I think all extremist ideologies are very similar.
Elif SafakRead
But let us not forget that cities are like human beings. They are born, they go through childhood and adolescence, they grow old, and eventually they die
Interpretation
Cities, like humans, undergo a life cycle of stages from birth to death.
Elif Safak's quote draws a parallel between the life of a city and that of a human being, suggesting that cities experience growth and decline just as people do. This anthropomorphism highlights the emotional and cultural connections we have to urban spaces, as they reflect human experiences and evolve through time, facing challenges and transformations akin to those in human life.
In practice
In a speech about urban development, one might say: 'As Elif Safak reminds us, cities are like human beings, moving through stages of life that reflect our own.'
I like to question cultural biases wherever I go, and I question Islamophobia as much as I question anti-western sentiment because I think all extremist ideologies are very similar.
Stories cannot demolish frontiers, but they can punch holes in our mental walls, and through those holes we can get a glimpse of the other and sometimes even like what we see.
What iβm saying is, my friends, one ought to be able to let go. If a path does not please us, instead of insisting on going that specific way, of making our selfishness the guide, we ought to forsake. The books we cannot write, the films we cannot shoot, the projects we cannot develop, the jobs we cannot pursue and the people who no longer love us. Being able to let go, at times, is the most beautiful of all!
For me, writing stories is one way of feeling connected to the universe and God.
I write as if I were drunk. It is a process of intuition rather than placing myself above my story like a puppeteer pulling strings. For me, it's a scary, chaotic process over which I have little control. Words demand other words, characters resist me.
I like to borrow a metaphor from the great poet and mystic Rumi who talks about living like a drawing compass. One leg of the compass is static. It is fixed and rooted in a certain spot. Meanwhile, the other leg draws a huge wide circle around the first one, constantly moving. Just like that, one part of my writing is based in Istanbul. It has strong local roots. Yet at the same time the other part travels the whole wide world, feeling connected to several cities, cultures, and peoples.
He found himself still with too many questions and not enough answers.
Throughout my career and my life, I talk a lot about racism in this country, and if you're going to talk about it, then you're going to eventually come to the chapter about the Klan.
As a global community, we face a choice. Do we want migration to be a source of prosperity and international solidarity, or a byword for inhumanity and social friction?
Every utopia - let's just stick with the literary ones - faces the same problem: What do you do with the people who don't fit in?
If a company has acted badly, people want to punish it - not in order to deter future misconduct, but simply because they're outraged. And the more outraged they are, the more punishment they want to inflict.
A well-instructed people alone can be permanently a free people.
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