{"id":8297,"date":"2026-06-12T21:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-06-12T12:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/?p=8297"},"modified":"2026-06-04T15:06:30","modified_gmt":"2026-06-04T06:06:30","slug":"baris-noah-episode-12-conflicting-memory","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/baris-noah-episode-12-conflicting-memory\/","title":{"rendered":"Episode 12\u3000An Unbelievable Memory \u2014 A Family\u2019s Conflicting Past Around His Father"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Memory sometimes keeps the meaning we give it later more strongly than the thing that actually happened. :contentReference[oaicite:0]{index=0}<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The morning light was thin. It had not yet reached the corners of the house. Morning in Ankara took a little time to wake. The sound of a shop shutter opening far away. The low hum of a car climbing the slope. Air that still held a trace of dampness. Outside the window, the city had begun to move. But inside the house, night still seemed to linger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f stood by the hallway window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Deniz\u2019s words from the night before were still inside him. Maybe you just want someone who wasn\u2019t there to have been there. It had been anger. But not only anger. It was the voice of someone who had carried the same absence of a father, but in a completely different shape.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Looking down at the slope outside, Bar\u0131\u015f thought\u2014 maybe the things he had called memories were only wishes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A back. A low voice. Hands untying shoelaces at the entrance. The sound of the wind changing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
Had he really seen them?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Or had he gathered them later, piece by piece, just to give his father a shape inside himself?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His mother\u2019s voice came from behind him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He turned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Emine stood there with a thin cardigan over her shoulders. She seemed still halfway through the morning. Her hair was only loosely tied, and a trace of cold water remained on her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When Bar\u0131\u015f answered, Emine came to the window. She did not look outside. She looked into the house, as if checking the weight of the air that morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It wasn\u2019t a lie. He had closed his eyes again and again. But the fragments about his father kept rising in his mind, changing order each time. And he no longer knew which of them were real.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Emine asked nothing. She touched the wooden window frame. Her fingertips met the cool glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f looked at her profile as he spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cDo people ever make memories because they need them?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Emine did not answer at once. After a while, she let out a faint breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cI suppose they do.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
The answer came faster than he expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cYou say that so easily.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cIt isn\u2019t easy. But yes, I think it happens.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
At last, she looked at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cPainful things can grow smaller. Kindness that may never have existed can grow larger. The opposite can happen too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It sounded less like an explanation than something learned over a long life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f turned back to the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Halfway down the slope, a man stopped with a bag of bread in his hand and bent to tie his shoe. Even that ordinary gesture caught on something inside him now.<\/p>\n\n\n
\nSometimes a stranger carries the shape of an old memory.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
\n
\u201cI thought I remembered.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cDad. A little. But\u2026 maybe I don\u2019t remember him at all.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Once he said it, something settled quietly in his chest. Not a large loss. But like a piece of ground he had been standing on giving way a little.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Emine did not answer. She only straightened the curtain near the window. There was something in the motion, a habit of calming someone before words could.<\/p>\n\n\n
\nSome feelings remain in silence longer than words.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
\n
\u201cDeniz said something yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f went on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cShe said maybe I just want someone who wasn\u2019t there to have been there.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Emine\u2019s fingers stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201c\u2026That sounds like her.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not denying it?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cWhat would denying it change?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
This time, Emine gave a faint, troubled smile. There was kindness in it. But not an answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cThat isn\u2019t what I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cThen what do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
His voice grew stronger. But it wasn\u2019t the same anger as before. This time, it was fear. Fear that even what lived inside him could no longer be trusted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Emine looked up at the old clock on the wall. The hands moved quietly. The sound felt closer than usual.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cSome things remain, even if you don\u2019t remember them clearly.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cBut I don\u2019t know if they\u2019re real.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cSometimes whether something is real isn\u2019t the only thing that matters.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
That only confused him more. Was it all right if it wasn\u2019t real? Could a memory tell the truth even if it was not fact?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Emine continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cSay that when you were small, there was a time you looked at your father and felt safe.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f listened without speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cYou may not remember the scene clearly. But that sense of safety can remain. The opposite is true too. You may forget what someone said, but the hurt can stay.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f repeated the words in his mind. Not the scene. The feeling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If that was true, then what he thought he remembered might not be a lie. But it was not memory as it had happened. It was something vaguer. More fragile. And that vagueness hurt more than he wanted it to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cThen what am I supposed to believe?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
His voice was small.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Emine kept her eyes on the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cDon\u2019t decide from one thing alone.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n
\nSome memories stay quiet long after the words disappear.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f closed his eyes for a moment. A name was not enough. A map was not enough. Shoes were not enough. Neither anger nor silence was enough. To know his father, he could not hurry the fragments into one answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A little late, he understood. That was what his mother meant.<\/p>\n\n\n
\nSome distances remain even after the voices fade.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
Then a door closed at the end of the hallway. Deniz must have woken.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They both looked that way. Neither of them said anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The anger from last night had not disappeared. But that anger too remained here, as part of the family\u2019s memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f spoke quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cI want to know about Dad. But if I\u2019m only chasing a father I made up myself\u2026 that scares me.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Emine\u2019s face did not change. She only nodded once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
\u201cThen be scared.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
It was not comfort. It did not take the fear away. It only admitted that he would have to carry it with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside the window, the morning light slowly grew stronger. One person, then another, passed along the slope. Each of them going somewhere. But maybe not all of them knew clearly where they were headed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bar\u0131\u015f thought that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n
Was an unbelievable memory still better than nothing left at all?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
\n
Or did people go searching precisely because they could not believe it?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
No answer came. But at least now, he could no longer ignore what was shifting inside him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At that moment, a small wind moved through the end of the hallway. The edge of the curtain stirred.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until yesterday, he might have searched for meaning in that alone. But now he only watched it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe it meant something. Maybe it didn\u2019t. Still, the movement itself was real.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe memory was the same.<\/p>\n\n\n
\nThe curtain moved quietly, even if no one understood why.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Morning light filled the quiet apartment in Ankara. In the silence left behind by his father, Bar\u0131\u015f began to notice memories that no longer matched.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":9463,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"swell_btn_cv_data":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[982,981],"tags":[1000,1013,1402,1403],"class_list":["post-8297","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-baris-and-noah","category-story","tag-ankara","tag-baris-and-noah","tag-family-memories","tag-quiet-conflict"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8297","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8297"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8297\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9974,"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8297\/revisions\/9974"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9463"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8297"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8297"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8297"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
![\"A](\"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ankara-street-fragmented-memory-1024x576.webp\")
![\"A](\"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/emine-window-touch-ankara-1024x576.webp\")
![\"Bar\u0131\u015f](\"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/baris-noah-ankara-morning-window-1-1024x576.webp\")
![\"Quiet](\"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/baris-noah-ankara-hallway-1024x576.webp\")
![\"Thin](\"https:\/\/worldwatch.tokyo\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/ankara-morning-curtain-memory-1024x576.webp\")