Life, Lightly Arranged
Life, Lightly Arranged
Inner Pages: Letters From Ali Baran Y.
March 19, 2025
A Page from This Week
Life unfolds in unexpected yet strangely satisfying ways.
That was one of my favorite lines from the last letter.
And the more I think about it—especially looking back over the past five years—the truer it feels.
Life doesn’t announce its changes.
It doesn’t say, “Hey guys, I’m shifting now.”
It just… shifts.
I don’t think anyone ends up exactly how they once imagined themselves. If I could sit down with 8-year-old Ali Baran and tell him how things would turn out, he’d probably be shocked. Not because of tragedy, or brilliance, or anything overly dramatic—just because life rarely unfolds the way we think it will.
Mine has been a quiet life, yes—but also one full of luck, softness, and quiet wonders. And I’m deeply grateful for that. Still, it's strange how you can’t quite picture the place, the people, or even the person you’ll become.
Because the truth—and the flow—often take a very different path than desire.
As I write this—on a quiet Wednesday, around lunchtime—I'm sitting in Madrid Airport, waiting for my flight to Frankfurt to visit a childhood friend. Three years ago, I wouldn’t have imagined I’d be returning to Frankfurt—let alone willingly. I didn’t really like the city back then, and I couldn’t picture myself spending more time there. But life doesn’t work like that. My childhood friend—his name is Berk, and hopefully I’ll be writing more about him and his art in future letters—ended up living in a town very close to Frankfurt. He started working there, building a life, and here I am, once again on my way to that same city. I know, it sounds silly—getting sentimental over a short trip to Frankfurt—but still, these small things matter and remind me that even the simplest moments can hold something worth reflecting on.
I'm writing this paragraph on a peaceful Friday morning in Darmstadt. I really like it here—not just because Berk lives in this small, quiet town and makes it meaningful to be here, but also because life feels a little calmer. Even calmer than where I live, which is a mid-sized Spanish city known for its easygoing rhythm. Maybe it’s the weather, the size of the town, or the people. I liked the energy.
Of course, I know it's not for everyone. But if you're like me—hate capitals and big cities, or just tired of the chaos—you'd probably enjoy this place.
Living six years in Istanbul taught me many things, but it also brought a lot of anxiety into my life. Strangely enough, my life there was actually quite easy. I was living with my father but sharing a city with 15 million people was never an easy task. At least, not for me.
I’m waiting for my friend Sabrina right now.
We met in Spanish class during our Erasmus semester, three years ago. We were both struggling with a new language in a new country. She was one of those people who made everything lighter. We laughed a lot back then. My exchange only lasted five months; hers went on for a full year. I remember feeling pretty heartbroken when I had to leave. But life, as always, had its own timing.
A few months later, I got accepted into an internship—and somehow, I even got a scholarship for it. I returned that summer, just in time to see Sabrina again before she wrapped up her year. That’s also when I met Ana, who had just started her exchange after I left. I didn’t know then, but that summer would become one of those memories I’d carry around longer than expected.
Two years passed. I settled down in the same city for my master degree. And suddenly, both Ana and Sabrina were there again—this time doing internships at the city's hospital. We only had two months, but it was enough to feel like something had come full circle.
And now here we are, somehow syncing up again.
I called Sabrina last week to tell her I’d be in Germany. She told me she was planning a road trip to visit Ana that same weekend—and, luckily, Darmstadt was on her route.
She’s picking me and Berk up in two hours.
I’m kind of amazed. My childhood friend is about to meet my Erasmus friends. It feels like different versions of myself are casually crossing paths.
We didn’t force anything. We didn’t plan much.
Life just aligned, quietly—and I love when it does that.
I couldn’t read much this week—I was too busy catching up with friends, eating different food and exploring new places. Still, my Kindle is with me, so I managed to squeeze in a few pages while traveling. Lately, I’ve been reading Snow by Orhan Pamuk. It’s going well—I really love the region the book is set in.
Berk wrote his master’s thesis on Mediterranean culture, music and balance. In my opinion, it’s one of the most fascinating research topics—and connections—I’ve come across. He told me he watched every second of this incredible concert as part of his research, and we watched it together too. I loved it. These are the kind of divas you watch, listen to, and learn from.
Notes to Self
I made a little video about my weekend trip to Freiburg, where I spent some time with friends. You can watch the longer version here.
I’m also thinking about launching a small online store to sell physical copies of my zines. I’m not sure where to start—or even if I really want to do it yet. Still figuring it out.
If you could, where would you travel right now?
Something to keep, something to explore.
I recently came across a piece I really liked by Lindsey Peters Berg.
In her newsletter dear diary, she wrote an article titled “Wanting to Be a Writer vs. Actually Writing.” It’s a thoughtful reminder about the power of consistency—about staying focused on the work itself, rather than getting distracted by the many channels that surround it.
That’s it for this week—thank you for spending a little time with Inner Pages. It means the world that you’re here, reading these words. If something in this letter resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—just hit reply.
If you enjoyed this, consider forwarding it to a friend who might like it too. Sharing keeps this little space alive and growing. And if you’d like to support my work in other ways, you can buy me a coffee or simply keep reading—that’s more than enough.
Until next time, keep wandering.
Ali Baran Y.