When Tuğrul saw the bulgur pilaf brought to her table by her mother, she grimaced her face.
The same thing happened three days ago, Mom, she complained. Rice, rice, rice ...
After you put the mother's plate in the table:
-What should my son do? Do we have to cook you a variety of meals ... Do you have what I want, I will take what they want ...
Tugrul's eyes can not hold:
-You know Ahmet, the son of my neighbor's mother ... There are various kinds of food in their houses. Mert is so, Selim is so ... Moreover, the pocket is not lacking in any one's pocket. This is for nothing. What's the difference between me and me?
Her mother turned her head back to not cry. With a sad voice:
- Boy, is this what you got? Dad finally found a good bad job. We are going through a scarcity of winnings. And what do you look for other people? We are not as rich as they are.
-Why not, why can not we?
He was standing on the floor.
-I do not eat this food! Always the same food! I'm sick! Pants pattern patch torn! The shirt pattern is old-fashioned! That's enough!
My son Tuğrul! Where are you going?
Tuğrul looked at her mother with empty eyes while she was pouring on the back of an old-fashioned, monotunous cast, painted somewhere. It turned out to be like a door.
Before the poor mother pulled her out in a sad and grieving situation ... Then a few drops of age swept down her cheeks. A hiccup after him ... He began to cry and cry.
-Your Lord, what shall we be? Help us.
He was both crying and praying. The poor woman could not have eaten a single bite because of her sadness.
Tuğrul came out of the house with his feet in his pocket. He seemed to have forcibly walked. On the one hand it was said.
-Penished, no money! Everyone is living your life, we are crawling. Oh blind you, poverty!
He walked in front of his eyes. Perhaps everyone was looking at him and ridiculing himself. It felt as if she would show her to each other if she lifted her head.
Söylene had come up to the park. He lifted his head, he called somewhere to sit. He stepped into the park and sat on one of the benches. At least he got himself a little bit. His eyes wore on the shoe that was about to tear. He tried to hide his feet slightly inward.
- Look at me, he said. Shoes, not shoes, but shoes.
Meanwhile, a child approached.
-Boy, brother, he said.
The child looked at a reluctant temper. His face was black. The dresses were lima. There were rubber shoes. He stretched the shoe in his hand, waiting. When the child saw that Tuğrul had no meaningless meaning:
-His brother, he said. I told you to paint it!
Tugrul tried to escape his tired eyes:
He said no money. And look at it, where's the paint left?
The painter boy hurt him and sat next to him.
-What's the matter with your brother? asked.
Tuğrul looked at him with a puzzled temper:
-Tuğrul said. What about yours?
- I am Hasan ... Is something bad, man?
Tugrul'u love to find a friend asking Derdini. He began to tell his wife, who was inside. Hasan left his job, listened to him. When the conversation is over, Hasan:
Our family is alike, brother, he said. And I do not have my father either. I'm the only man in the house. But I am not a complainer anyway. Thank you. I go to school from morning until noon, and when I get to the school, I pick up a paint stick and come out here. I wear 10-15 shoe a day. Something is going on, elime. We spend what I earn on house expenses. We are thankful to you. After all, what's worse than us, right?
Hasan was upset while Tuğrul was puzzled.
I'm going, brother, he said. Want to paint your shoes, get paid.
- Thank you Hasan, he said. Other time I hope.
Hasan looked from behind and felt the boiling waters spewed from behind him in the face of the moment he noticed. Hasan's feet were blocked. Barely walking, he barely walked. Yet he had not noticed it until he got up and went away. As a matter of fact, Hasan never mentioned this.
At that moment, unwilling eyes went to their feet; To run, to jump, to jump, to jump. The determination and will of all to demonstrate the needs of the family of a child without a father and a disabled child was unbelievable. Now he felt you were crushed.
Was not it? Why, even in this situation, could not it be as bad as Hasan, who was in a worse situation, who could not even find a dress, but living with a single garment, praising the people who mixed trash for a slice of bread?
- How stupid I am, he fainted. Hasan's still look, even if he is doing painting, earning his money, a house to give. What's happening to me? No, he was rich, he found no money! And I do not even work! I found the comfort, I want more. What about me from my friends, me from Mert'den Selim?
He was happy to think so. He was relieved. He looked at the air with a slight dusk.
Head in front of you:
- My mother said I was very upset today, I broke my heart. I'll go get your heart, kiss your hand.
And that's when you felt hungry. He wanted bulgur pilaf. She was amazed at this change.
From the way he has come, moving on his steps, still shameful, rebelling against poverty,
The same thing happened three days ago, Mom, she complained. Rice, rice, rice ...
After you put the mother's plate in the table:
-What should my son do? Do we have to cook you a variety of meals ... Do you have what I want, I will take what they want ...
Tugrul's eyes can not hold:
-You know Ahmet, the son of my neighbor's mother ... There are various kinds of food in their houses. Mert is so, Selim is so ... Moreover, the pocket is not lacking in any one's pocket. This is for nothing. What's the difference between me and me?
Her mother turned her head back to not cry. With a sad voice:
- Boy, is this what you got? Dad finally found a good bad job. We are going through a scarcity of winnings. And what do you look for other people? We are not as rich as they are.
-Why not, why can not we?
He was standing on the floor.
-I do not eat this food! Always the same food! I'm sick! Pants pattern patch torn! The shirt pattern is old-fashioned! That's enough!
My son Tuğrul! Where are you going?
Tuğrul looked at her mother with empty eyes while she was pouring on the back of an old-fashioned, monotunous cast, painted somewhere. It turned out to be like a door.
Before the poor mother pulled her out in a sad and grieving situation ... Then a few drops of age swept down her cheeks. A hiccup after him ... He began to cry and cry.
-Your Lord, what shall we be? Help us.
He was both crying and praying. The poor woman could not have eaten a single bite because of her sadness.
Tuğrul came out of the house with his feet in his pocket. He seemed to have forcibly walked. On the one hand it was said.
-Penished, no money! Everyone is living your life, we are crawling. Oh blind you, poverty!
He walked in front of his eyes. Perhaps everyone was looking at him and ridiculing himself. It felt as if she would show her to each other if she lifted her head.
Söylene had come up to the park. He lifted his head, he called somewhere to sit. He stepped into the park and sat on one of the benches. At least he got himself a little bit. His eyes wore on the shoe that was about to tear. He tried to hide his feet slightly inward.
- Look at me, he said. Shoes, not shoes, but shoes.
Meanwhile, a child approached.
-Boy, brother, he said.
The child looked at a reluctant temper. His face was black. The dresses were lima. There were rubber shoes. He stretched the shoe in his hand, waiting. When the child saw that Tuğrul had no meaningless meaning:
-His brother, he said. I told you to paint it!
Tugrul tried to escape his tired eyes:
He said no money. And look at it, where's the paint left?
The painter boy hurt him and sat next to him.
-What's the matter with your brother? asked.
Tuğrul looked at him with a puzzled temper:
-Tuğrul said. What about yours?
- I am Hasan ... Is something bad, man?
Tugrul'u love to find a friend asking Derdini. He began to tell his wife, who was inside. Hasan left his job, listened to him. When the conversation is over, Hasan:
Our family is alike, brother, he said. And I do not have my father either. I'm the only man in the house. But I am not a complainer anyway. Thank you. I go to school from morning until noon, and when I get to the school, I pick up a paint stick and come out here. I wear 10-15 shoe a day. Something is going on, elime. We spend what I earn on house expenses. We are thankful to you. After all, what's worse than us, right?
Hasan was upset while Tuğrul was puzzled.
I'm going, brother, he said. Want to paint your shoes, get paid.
- Thank you Hasan, he said. Other time I hope.
Hasan looked from behind and felt the boiling waters spewed from behind him in the face of the moment he noticed. Hasan's feet were blocked. Barely walking, he barely walked. Yet he had not noticed it until he got up and went away. As a matter of fact, Hasan never mentioned this.
At that moment, unwilling eyes went to their feet; To run, to jump, to jump, to jump. The determination and will of all to demonstrate the needs of the family of a child without a father and a disabled child was unbelievable. Now he felt you were crushed.
Was not it? Why, even in this situation, could not it be as bad as Hasan, who was in a worse situation, who could not even find a dress, but living with a single garment, praising the people who mixed trash for a slice of bread?
- How stupid I am, he fainted. Hasan's still look, even if he is doing painting, earning his money, a house to give. What's happening to me? No, he was rich, he found no money! And I do not even work! I found the comfort, I want more. What about me from my friends, me from Mert'den Selim?
He was happy to think so. He was relieved. He looked at the air with a slight dusk.
Head in front of you:
- My mother said I was very upset today, I broke my heart. I'll go get your heart, kiss your hand.
And that's when you felt hungry. He wanted bulgur pilaf. She was amazed at this change.
From the way he has come, moving on his steps, still shameful, rebelling against poverty,
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