The possibility of an ‘imported revolution’

There are certainly other ways, but I am traveling to Milan by passing over fields of clouds. Just as there are many ways to look at issues—from land, sea, the street, or skyscrapers—there are many ways to travel the road.

We live between the earth and the sky; I am now beneath the clouds that I never tire of passing through. Is it possible to look at events the way I look at the landscape from above?

It is October 31, 2026, and I am in Milan. In the courtyard of the house built by the Gothic world for God, humans are calling out to one another; as cathedrals stretch toward the sky, feet stand on the ground more firmly than ever.

Even if the steps are not taken at the same time, a music, a similar rhythm emerges. This is neither military discipline nor a ritual where everyone says ‘amen’ in unison.

The sky is partly cloudy.

A confrontation, a call, an outright resistance. And all for the sake of living!

Neither an external nor an internal war.

Known, unknown, and unheard languages find a universal sound like music and set a new rhythm.

Even if the language of the place they migrated from is forgotten, the reason they came remains in their memory.

For a great purpose—if nature has a sacred aspect, if humanity has a sacred aspect—it is to live and to let live.

The name of the resistance is now the human struggle for life... A struggle to seek rights... A battle for justice, for labor, for time.

Like all revolutions, it has a cause. While there are many ways to say ‘things cannot go on like this,’ some paths lead to the squares...

‘Retro’ is in fashion these days; as the past continues to soothe the soul of modern man, we wonder if there can be a retro version of a revolution... A possibility of a revolution...

What kind of time have we been born into? On one side, history is coming to life on a new stage; on the other, humanity is struggling in the hands of artificial intelligence.

History, technology, existence, but most of all, the economy.

On the fringes of extraordinary developments in technology, there is still hunger, still injustice, still a struggle for existence.

Some purchase an identity through the frantic siege of boulevards by brands, while the scream of others, born from their struggle for life, shatters the windows of luxury brand stores. In other words, ‘savage capitalism’ and ‘vandalism’ are coming face to face.

The new generation, for whom we have lost hope and lowered our expectations, does not bow to the world's injustice. They raise their hands and rise up.

For some reason, when uprisings are like a cold wave from the West, they carry a different meaning for us.

As if we hadn't lived through Gezi, as if we had forgotten Iran, we read the resistance in the West like a new French Revolution.

Some call it hope... They find hope...

Hope is beautiful, but do we perhaps even love the import of the possibility of a revolution?

I finish with that magnificent Italian folk melody that started exactly three lines ago on my shuffled music playlist.

I love coincidences, because nothing is a coincidence.

‘Bella Ciao’ is playing in my ears; with a breath from us, with the whistling of Efkan Şeşen, my soul is slowly rising up... The universal rhythm of music becomes a symbol of resistance in every language, a symbol of human dignity. I accompany the world with its Turkish version. Because:

“I cannot endure captivity,

passersby will say hello”

Hello, oh beautiful world!