Excerpt from the script
Sometimes, while walking aimlessly, he would come across an old man asking for directions. As he looked at the deep lines on the man’s face, he thought each one carried its own story. The tiredness in the man’s voice would remind him of her voice, and he would start thinking about her again.
Sometimes, rain would fall so heavily it could shame the apocalypse, yet he would hear the laughter of a little girl playing joyfully. Her giggles would remind him of her laughter, and he’d watch the child for a long time, lost in thought about her.
When winter came and it snowed, he would think about how he learned, without knowing where or how, that no two snowflakes ever touch as they fall. And once again, he’d find himself thinking about her.
There were even moments when he got so lost in how beautiful it felt to think of her that he seemed to vanish into the crowd, turning into a ghost. Even if he was physically there, you could tell he was dreaming about her, wandering like a child in another world.
After all these years, he could still vividly remember every detail of her face. He’d think about how perfectly her eyes, lips, and nose harmonized. Sometimes, he realized her beauty came from the color of her skin, and this discovery made him happy. And once again, he’d think of Rüya.
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