The first report came from a coastal town near Izmir.
A bookstore owner named Reşat wrote:
"You won't believe this.The teenagers moved the chairs before we could even open.Then they ran the session themselves.We weren't invited to speak."
Attached: a photo.
Seven kids, sitting in a circle.One reading aloud.The others writing silently.
No adults.
No guide.
No corrections.
—
Within days, more reports came.
In Samsun, a group of 12-year-olds started printing their own "Kara Cards" with prompts like:
"Describe the last thing you forgot on purpose.""Write a memory that didn't happen, but should have.""Apologize to your past self in one sentence."
In Ankara, a girl led a session by opening with:
— "We don't need mentors today.We just need each other."
The adults in the room… stepped back.
And stayed quiet.
—
Emir received a hand-drawn zine from Diyarbakır.
Folded paper, illustrated with stick figures.
A four-panel comic titled:
"Things We Say When We Don't Want to Remember"
He laughed out loud.
Genuinely.
Because panel three had him drawn with his scarf flying in the wind like a superhero cape—and panel four had him sleeping in a bookstore surrounded by sticky notes labeled:"TOO MUCH MEANING," "FIX LATER," and "DO NOT QUOTE."
—
"They're writing your next chapter," Atatürk said that night,"while you're still trying to organize the previous one."
— "They're changing everything," Emir said.
"Good.Because if they didn't, you'd be a statue by now."
—
Emir visited one of the sessions—unannounced.He sat in the back.Said nothing.
A boy no older than 13 stood at the front and asked:
— "What's one thing you want to unlearn today?"
Everyone answered.
Except Emir.
On the way out, the boy handed him a blank card.
— "You don't have to answer now," he said.— "But don't lose it."
—
That night, Emir wrote:
"I'm no longer the author.I'm the first draft."
"They're not quoting me.They're translating me into something I never had the words for."
"And maybe… they're right to."