إذا أردت أن تتقن حرفتك، فينبغي لك أن تقنع الكون بأنّك أنت المطلوب و ليس غيرك - Elif Şafak

إنني أعتبر الإيمان بهذه الطريقة، مثل البستان فيه ورود مخفية كنت أطوف فيه ذات يومٍ وأستنشق الروائح العطرة التي تعبق منه، لكن لم يعد بإمكاني أن أدخله. أريد أن يعود الله صديقًا لي كما كان ذات مرة، وبهذا الشوق أدور حول تلك الحديقة أبحث عن مدخل لعلي أجد بوابة تمكنني من الدخول.

Which is how I think of faith — like a hidden rose garden where I once roamed and inhaled its perfumed smells but can no longer enter. I want God to be my friend again. With that longing I am
circling that garden, searching for an entrance, hoping to find a gate that will let me in.

There's something about love that resembles faith. It's kind of a blind trust, isn't it? The sweetest euphoria. The magic of connecting with a being beyond our limited, familiar selves. But if we get carried away by love- or by faith- it turns into a dogma, a fixation. The sweetness becomes sour. We suffer in the hands of gods that we ourselves created.

It happened all the time in this city that encompassed seven hills, two continents, three seas and fifteen million mouths. It happened behind closed doors and in open courtyards; in cheap motel rooms and five-star luxury suites; in the midst of the night or plain daylight. The brothels of this city could tell many a story had they only found ears willing to listen. Call girls and rent boys and aged prostitutes beaten, abused and threatened by clients looking for the smallest excuse to lose their temper. Transsexuals who never went to the police for they knew they could be assaulted a second time. Children scared of particular family members and new brides of their fathers- or brothers-in-law; nurses and teachers and secretaries harassed by infatuated lovers just because they had refused to date them in the past; housewives who would never speak a word for there were no words in this culture to describe marital rape. It happened all the time. Canopied under a mantle of secrecy and silence that shamed the victims and shielded the assailants. Istanbul was no stranger to sexual abuse. In this city where everyone feared outsiders, most assaults came from those who were too familiar, too close.