Honour Elif Shafak Epub Download

I often forget why I’m here. Nothing in particular is wrong, nothing in particular needs to be fixed, life is generally good. But every once in a while the futility of my existence shows up with a disastrous flash of lightning and I realize that all my efforts are meaningless. Not because something terrible has happened; not because I’ve become old or sick; but simply because there is no point.

I’m not a philosopher of any sort, that’s why I hesitate to call this feeling existential anxiety. When the deadly flaw is clear and bold and logical like that, it feels like a problem of philosophy. It really doesn’t seem like a problem at all, but the moment you begin thinking about it, you get entangled in an infinite loop of query and response; you get lost in the mire of circular logic; you become aware of your condition. And suddenly, like a white light flashing behind your eyes, your life becomes the very horror you thought it would never be: A deep-seated meaningless.

And so I resort to action to dispel this horror. I go for a walk, or I run a mile, I take a break from the desk and TV, I learn a new dance... But my action is related to an illusion. It is an attempt at compliance with what my mind is telling me: that there is no point to life. And so my action remains futile.

But then, one day, there comes a knock on the door of the house I live in, and it’s my mother leaning against her stick. She has rings under her eyes and her hair is loose around her face. She tells me she has been looking for me for three days after getting word from an old friend who saw you in a café somewhere in Europe.

She tells me that my father is in the hospital again. And she is crying when she says that my father is very sick and a part of him has already died in a coma, and a part of him will die if he doesn’t get in the hospital soon. So I go with my mother to Turkey and I say goodbye to my friends in Paris. I phone my boyfriend from Istanbul saying I need space, but the truth is I don’t want to go through the breaking up routine all over again. I stay in Turkey and spend a good few days in the hospital and talk with my father who can’t recognize me most of the time. I don’t remember his face, not even when he spoke to me. And so when my mother calls to tell me that he is gone forever, I feel like I am mourning the loss of a stranger.

I don’t feel sad, but I cry a lot at night, because maybe this unexpected death has revealed something to me: that life has a meaning after all. 778eeb4e9f3257
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