A Letter Without Fire
A Letter Without Fire
Inner Pages: Letters From Ali Baran Y.
March 26, 2025
A Page from This Week
Truly a calm and grateful week, personally. It felt almost like a crime to have a little serenity.
My old home, Türkiye, is not experiencing the same calm. People, friends, students are protesting, on the streets, calling for justice and change. It looks like many dark days are waiting at the door. My deepest support is with the people—with friends fighting for human rights, not for the authorities.
Such events used to spark a little fire under my skin. Not because I had political precedence, but because injustice is a sharp truth in the region. Seeing people fight for their rights used to inspire me. It gave us the hope we needed most—the hope that all people building their paths in Türkiye could live together in harmony.
That hope was truly a blast of light.
Anatolia—the name of these lands—has always been a home to many. A mix of the world. A center. Carrying so many different ideas and backgrounds is not an easy task, but once stability is found, it becomes a blessing—a richness.
As someone who understands the value of this richness, justice became an important tenet. Any fight against injustice felt essential.
But this time, for the first time, I can’t feel it.
The fire.
The feeling.
The hope.
I feel the blue.
But I also know this blueness comes from guilt.
The shame of not having hope,
of feeling irrelevant,
of losing my identity and connection to my old home.
A dangerous feeling.
If you, reader—if you are fighting for your rights, for yourself, and for your future selves
Be careful.
Be safe.
I decided not to share the rest of the newsletter. It feels ridiculous to talk about updates, projects, or self-promotion while many of my readers are under immense stress due to the current situation in Türkiye.
That’s it for this week—thank you for spending a little time with Inner Pages.
Until next time, keep wandering.
Ali Baran Y.