back in Bulgarian village. He was a real pain in the neck for all his family, full of beans, always ready to contradict and pursue his own truth, seeking the sense, feeling deep and powerful longing for answers no one seemed to be able to satisfy. The torture he suffered at a young age before the truth itself found him, was very possible prospect for this naturally open-minded and curious boy.

“What do you see on the canvas?”

“Well, some buildings from the street, and there are white walls of the old abandoned Greek church from the hill, standing out from the rest of the huts on your painting. Oh, and there is a fig tree next to the bench, where a real cat is sleeping, but you forgot to put the cat there, instead you lied and put the non-existent tree.”

Can sighed gloomily and turned his chin toward the artist.

“You are a liar, Mister, aren’t you?”

“All men are liars, I suppose, kid. Though, I will not call myself a regular liar.”

The sun was still shining bright, playing with sparkles on a sweaty face of the man. “I mean, boy, there is no possibility for a person to be always honest even with himself, let alone with other people. However, I pray to have enough courage and be honest at least about my own life. You seem to be puzzled with my answer, I can totally understand”. The artist didn’t give an impression of having a heavy burden on his shoulders, he spoke calmly and sincerely. Then paused for a split second and went on.

“Considering the non-existent tree, I would say that it is not a lie but a rebirth of a real tree that used to be growing here many years ago. And when it comes to the cat, well if you think it’s an important element of the scene I would definitely put it there too.” He cut the last sentence shortly with no hint of going further into the explanations, in fact the artist decided to check the boy’s intentions and see whether he would try to fish out the answer he had tried to get for two times already.

Can, overwhelmed with this metaphorical explanation, stand in silence, not knowing how to pick something else from the artist’s speech to underestimate or contradict but couldn’t find anything. And he also felt a blurred affection that spooked away the fear of a stranger in a child.

“I see, he raised the head and spent a long time staring at the man’s calm face. “Well, you lied about God, what is your justification for this Mister?”

“What an inquisitive boy you are!” the artist exclaimed, throwing his dirty with colors hands high. “Here I must confess to lying”

The boy straightened up, ready to carry the palm of victory.

“I should have told ‘our Lord Jesus’ and not ‘my’, I wasn’t very attentive to my words when faced the pain of your stone, yet I never lied, boy. And now, if you let me, I would like to go back to work while the light is good.”

Chapter 3

A seed of knowledge. May 22

It was early in the morning, Can’s bed was put along the sunny side of the room and he got used to waking up with the first rays touching his long and curvy lashes. The family had only one alarm used by mother to set time when she was busy baking, father woke up at the same time every single day to be fully prepared for Fajr. Morning Prayer became an essential part of his life. It was somehow easier to imagine Mr. Yussuf forget to drink a cup of morning coffee or even brush his teeth than neglect one of the five prayers during the day.

Can was up even earlier this particular morning, still a little confused by the quarrel he overheard late at night. The boy stretched in bed mumbling a simple prayer for his brother. It was not a custom for Can to pray at all, he had never fully understood who this God was and why he never heard his father when it came to Kerem. He paid the honor to God, attended the mosque when needed with the family, but never felt anything toward the mighty creature his father was so afraid of.

Can got up and approached a small spotty window gazing at the empty streets for a long time, recalling a peculiar dialogue with the artist. The artist told him about love being God, and that people will never be able to satisfy the thirst they have without Jesus. Who, as he believed, was a real testimony of loving God. That Jesus was the Lord himself having come to our world to safe us all.

As he gazed at the disappearing shadows, Can saw a striped gray stray cat watchfully cross the road with its tail raised and bristled. Was it afraid of something? Can was about to open the window to call for the cat when out of the sudden a bigger monster of a cat sprang upon the first tiny grayish kedi. Guttural meowing sounds were a slap in the face of the morning silence. Can felt a freezing sense of fear when his witty mind made an analogy between the poor tiny cat being beaten so severely and his own brother Kerem. His Kerem was just a teenage boy alone in a big crowded city where anyone can get lost forever leaving no trace at all, becoming just a faded memory for those who once knew them.

Nobody seemed to notice the noise. Was there anyone who could help that skinny cat and his brother?

Suddenly a peculiar thought came over the boy. The Bulgarian artist told him that even parents are not able to love their children as much as God does, that people are deeply loved by Jesus and they need just to believe in his grace and ask for forgiveness and help. And our prayer will never pass unnoticed, especially given by the heart full of love and acceptance. Can reasoned for a second whether he should pray for Kerem since his dad certainly did it anyway and it was in vain.

“Maybe I need to ask this Jesus for help”, Can didn’t know much about him, and he was still uncertain about him being God, but maybe, just maybe, he could at least try, there was nothing to lose anyway.

“Jesus, I beg you to watch over my brother. You are said to be a very loving God and the one who really cares, so please forgive me my many mistakes I have already made and help my brother to come home safe. He is not bad and you love him more than my father, that must be very much indeed, I suppose. I will pray you every time I hear the calling, so please Jesus, help him”.

He finished his praying, opened the eyes and saw no cats on the street. Only tiny pitches of little birds filled the air.

Chapter 4

The Bosporus is ready to devour

A few days later, around nine in the evening, the telephone rang. As soon as Kerem heard Mehmed call for him, he knew that there would be some bad news waiting for him. He lived now in a shabby room with five other men of different age, no one of them had families or friends outside the gang. They did not have a legal job either. They were obliged to carry out any assigned task by the boss. No surprise, in most cases it turned out to be some kind of fishy business, including alcohol and drug dealing, recruiting women from poor remote neighborhoods to work for their boss, or just begging in the crowds. The latter was primly for kids and teenage boys with pretty faces who could easily woo public sympathy. Kerem was appointed to beg with two other boys in different places every day for at least ten hours, he thought of it as being fun first, feeling strange vibes of freedom from his monotonous life he used to have before. The intoxicating joy of owning his own money at the end of a shift made him feel like a king. However, the joy of a new lifestyle had not been eternal and it began to be washing away.

Once, when Kerem finally arrived with his friend from a night shift at around two o’clock in the morning, they overheard some pitchy screaming in the apartment. They stood in fear and then saw their boss with a guard come out of their room, the guard was carrying one of new boys with some bruises on his young and pale face.

No one explained anything, and Kerem’s gut told him to stay out of this, minding his own business instead and trying to be as quiet and reliable as possible. During the drinking night they would have from time to time, Kerem could not but think of his little brother Can, even though he did try to steer clear off any thoughts attached to his family, his brother’s innocent eyes were fixed on Kerem’s inner conscience. He got a sharp sense that all his new friends were worthless pieces of nothing to the boss and even to each other. Everyone kept quiet and never touched upon what they had witnessed in the morning. It must have not been the first and only accident like that to happen in those walls.

The telephone rang and Kerem already knew that it was bad news coming about the boy beaten in the apartment the night before. They were to become partners for begging soon, but the boy must have done something wrong, he must have stolen or lied, or somehow stood in the way of a mighty figure in Istanbul, or attracted too much of attention. It was a riddle with no answer. Kerem had no idea but when he heard that the boy had “got missing” and never came home, he pretended to be surprised. He knew that neither a large crowd of policemen nor his so-called friends would help him escape now, he felt dead already and thought again of the family he exchanged for this horror-of-a-life. Having nothing to do, he got ready for a new shift with his neighbor, trying to put on a mask of carelessness and confidence. The day began.

Mr. Yussuf was on the edge of despair that day, the anguish of what had already happened and what the future might hold for his son, made him sick. His wife, to her own surprise, felt deep in heart that the road would bring her son back home, sooner or later he would appear at the porch and knock on the door like the prodigal son to her warm cuddle. The same assurance of a happy end came over little Can. He already managed to address Jesus a few times with his heart full of hope and belief that Jesus would spare his darling brother. It was still uncertain when it would happen and how, yet it was to come the best way possible. He had no doubt about it.

Indeed it is said that the sincere prayer of a child makes a tremendous difference in the life of the one for whom it is given.

The guardian angel was definitely on duty that day, staying close to Kerem this airless evening, willing to perform the Father’s will toward the lost soul mingled with the bad crowd. Cigarettes, alcohol for kids and already damaged adults, dirty jokes and the devil’s songs floating in the air. Kerem had already drunk more than was enough for his still growing body and forming mind. He dreamt of getting out of this fake independent and mature life, he would be the happiest boy on earth if there were a chance to get home to his cozy bed. But there was not such a luxury anymore. He was stuck with this gang. So far no one left the “family” on their own will, there would be no exception for him.

One of the oldies held out a plastic glass with something hot inside to make them have fun tonight and get into oblivion of a blurred mind.

‘Again? No, teşekkürler.’

‘What do you mean by this “hayır”?’

The man look perplexed at this sharp refusal. Kerem lowered his head and admitted feeling really bad. No sooner had the man decided to say something “funny” than Kerem felt nausea and with no chance to turn away vomit on his knees and got the man dirty too.

‘Ahhh, man! Get away now, filthy pig’

Kerem felt stomach spasms again and slowly crawled to the edge of the embankment to throw up into the Bosporus next time.

It was getting darker, not many people on the seaside alley. The seagulls scream and fly above the ships nearby. Kerem was shaking, shivering and nauseous. He bent over the strait and for a split second it seemed to him that he saw a huge monstrous shadow behind him in the reflection of the black