He continued walking with various thoughts and memories in his head. He wanted to light another cigarette. When he looked up, he realised that he almost reached Bomonti. There was almost nobody around but himself. If we don’t take into account the man lying drunk in the park and the stray dog a little further... Then he suddenly realised that he was in front of the coffeehouse where he had smashed its glass to buy beer once. On his way home one time with a few friends, he craved beer, but could not get it because there were no open places. He saw a waiter cleaning in the coffee house (beer could be sold in mini markets, coffee houses, etc. in those years), and said that he wanted to buy a beer, but the waiter said that they could not give beer because they were closed and he did not open the shop. Sait, on the other hand, took a stone in his hand with a calmness befitting him and broke the shop window and entered. He had left the shop, paying for the beers and broken glass. He felt a pride mixed with embarrassment. "I wouldn't do it now, but I guess at that moment it was required", he thought. On his mind he had the old man lying drunk in the park and the stray dog. He wanted to write a story about them. Moreover, he was bored with his own story. He had never been a person who would talk about himself anyway. He looked up and looked around. He saw that in some houses the lights were on, in others they were off. Here are dozens of stories to be told… In some houses, now, people are already embracing their loved ones and having shared dreams. In some houses, dogs sleep curled up in their cozy beds. What about that street dog looking Sait from across? 

He lit his cigarette and put aside the whirring thoughts in his head for now. He continued walking. He thought about where his story had left off. He remembered… 

"After I came back from France, I did nothing for a while. Then I started to write with a strong desire to write. Within two years I had enough stories to publish a book. With the support of my father, I published my first book at Remzi Bookstore. When the book did not attract much attention at the beginning, I have to admit that I was a little embarrassed and sorry. But I never gave up writing. My father then, I guess he still had hope for me, opened a shop for me. On the sign he had written "broker". I could go on, maybe, but every day, literati came to the shop and had long conversations. I was also participating in these conversations. Customers stopped coming to the shop after a while, so I handed over the empty shop to my father. After a while, my military service came. I was exempt from military service with the report I received from the Asabiye clinic. I have also shown this report from time to time. Aziz Nesin had witnessed one of those times. I went abroad for a short time. When I returned, we were entirely from Istanbul now. 

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