I was at one of the martyr funerals we watched in today's evening news. I was a 'green one' in Kocatepe, among all the 'greens', 'whites' and 'indigos' with shiny stars and wreaths on shoulders. There, waiting under the bright sun, I was just a man who is standing still and the other was another man but lying in a wooden casket and will never be standing under the sun again...
Whether you support the ideas or not, in a martyr funeral, every single word cried out loud by the people around penetrates deep into your soul.
When I salute the coffin passing by me, although I try to keep my facial expression straight, my inner sorrow tells me to shout out loud: "Why do all these happen'"... Then a heavy funeral march starts. I look at the eyes of the people around, some beginned to grow tears... As I walk along with the crowd, I try to put some meaning... To my life, to his life, to his death...
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