April. The days deluged in light. The people, the city, everything is suspended on it. They are floating. The air, the smell it carries have changed him back. Seeing the young gather at the ferry ports in Kadikoy and Besiktas on a Friday evening while he waits, he remembers the days when the world was so swollen with the promise of tomorrow and it was all destined to fall into his lap like ripe fruit. Not a shadow touched him. The air, the light, rang with so many victories. How could such a beautiful universe disappoint him? It simply wasn’t possible. Luminous days. Why do they now feel like hours?