This post is not political. An attempt to place a thin rose petal between crowded words that take up a lot of space just because it is too loud. A narrow break of calculation in one of the newspaper corners, which was covered in smoke by the fire of the controversial headlines.

I am talking about a person in this article. From '1' person as a number. From one of the people. From someone who became famous as "Recep Tayyip Erdogan" but whose main feature is human. That's all. Do not mix the gold and the top, do not think about the end. I have nothing to say to those who are busy brainwashing interest engineering. Those who are busy collecting flies into the dusty webs of conspiracy theories are not my interlocutor.

That always happens. We fail to see a person, a person, in thick political considerations, among hectic political wheels. Our hearts, caught in the web of large political templates, forget that a political leader is also a person of skin. We think that he has no skin, he has armor now. We think his heart was replaced by metal detectors. As we become a party to confrontations loaded with anger or enmity, our gaze loses its clarity. No matter how powerful he is, no matter what great position and position he has, we owe loyalty to the heart's heartfelt flutters and to the fine embroidery of a heart. And I always ask, why do we do this after a person's death, but not admit it while he is alive?

Come on, forget about templates for a few minutes.

For example, watch the face of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan behind the tears he shed for orphans and orphans, and African children who have melted away with hunger. Does he still look like he's in power? Try to see him in the imprudence of bowing down, breaking the strict protocols, tearing up the rotten conventions, in order to lift the flag representing the blood of martyrs from underfoot. Even though he is the one who makes the loudest insults in the squares, watch him with the quiver of Fatiha on his lips as he stands beside his lost political rival with moist eyes, shouldering the coffin in surrender. A poor man's agenda with the big title "We are waiting for you for tea!" Remember him with his zeal that forgets his banner as soon as he reads it. "To hell with the conjunctures!" as if to say to the whole world, 'One minute! Say hello to the one who says hello. Find him in the lesson of love to mother and loyalty to father in the midnight Yasin reading, at the head of a secluded grave, without worrying about showing it to anyone. When he touches the page of the Qur'an, see him in the radiance of a joy whose eyes will forget his rank and position. Praise him for troubling world leaders who enjoy office by relying on their country's privileged political position and economic supremacy as an angry man who doesn't know what to say/what to do. Their imperialist past, which has not been shown to their faces by the veil of diplomatic courtesy for a long time.

Know him for his naivety, which voices his dirty political ambitions in unexpected places.

And this one. “Admiration is defeated jealousy,” says Peyami Safa. Jealousy and envy are actually suppressed admiration. Hate is a way of caring what you hate. What is calling Tayyip Erdogan a dictator other than admitting his invincibility? And his political opponents, inwardly, said, "Why don't we have such a real leader!" See him also as a strange man whom she lamented.

Of course, there will be those who will say that he has never made a mistake. Who speaks of infallibility? Walking with a stumble is included in one's authenticity. People are deceived. He is mistaken in his ignorance. It comes to its purity

, it makes a mistake. I'm talking about authenticity: not perfection.

(Senai Demirci)