ABC

“Are we Asian or European?” said Zeynep the elder playing her cello resembling the human voice in a Bursa cemetery.

“Sadly,” said young Zeynep scribbling with black, red and blue ink on Moleskine parchment, “we'll never know our true identity. We suffer an existential identity crisis. 90% of Turkey is in Asia. We need talking foreign monkeys with clear pro-nun-ci-a-tion at TLC. Wow, it’s another day in a magical paradise.”

Zeynep knew her ABC’s. Always Be Closing.

Her grandparents had a restaurant near a shopping center.

Lucky wandered in one day before going to TLC. Shy and curious she watched him writing and drawing. He smiled, Hello. She stared. He pushed red, green, blue and black pens across the table, turned his notebook toward her showing a page of color gesturing to materials and a chair, come and sit down. You can draw. It’s fun. She was curious with courage.

Trust. They became friends.

Zeynep and Lucky created art daily in a ravishing food zone.

Bored anxious depressed adults devouring their dreams, nightmares and anxieties with plain white yogurt swallowed shock and awe. Lotus-eaters stared from deep vacuums with hard dark brooding eyes.

Want to make a deal?

How’s it feel

to be on your own

with no direction home

like a complete unknown

like a rolling stone?

When Z or L made eye contact adults glanced away with fear uncertainty and incriminating disbelief. Not to mention psychosis, repressed aggression and guilt complexes.

They didn’t see regular professional strangers here, let alone one talking, laughing, playing and creating art with a kid as an equal.

Adults listened at 10% or less saying yeah yeah or I am tired with panache.

They asked Z many questions without speaking.

What’s the melody?

How can you revert to primal childlike innocence?

Is the music in the cello? How do you get it out?

Why do you risk being free and independent?

How did you escape the tyranny of social conditioning?

How do you develop your wings after jumping?

Why are you always scribbling words or drawing or playing the cello?

Do you have mental disorder?

Are you on medication or meditation?

Is it contagious this art and music process of creativity?

Is it the food, air, water?

Am I this or am I dreaming?

"All of the above," said Z. "Good things happen when you take risks. You risk expanding your perception. You risk losing everything in the expansion. Are you prepared to lose everything?"

Adults were afraid to express repressed feelings. Too risky. Ain't nothing but the blues, sweet thing.

The Language Company