Kemal begins collecting Füsun’s belongings

Kemal begins collecting Füsun’s belongings not as a deliberate hobby but as an attempt to manage the pain of losing her. After trying to bar himself from places associated with her, he returns to the Merhamet Apartments and discovers that touching and smelling objects she handled can briefly soothe him. The remedy does not make him forget; its failure helps turn everyday things, and eventually the city around them, into vessels of memory.

Withdrawal and the Mental Map

Kemal’s distress had become visible at Satsat, while his mother suspected that trouble between him and Sibel was worsening his state. He feared losing Sibel’s support even as his grief for Füsun threatened to overwhelm his ordinary life. To force himself away from the source of his longing, he prohibited visits to the Merhamet Apartments, waiting for Füsun, and caressing things that reminded him of her. Earlier attempts at self-denial had failed: even an errand to buy Sibel flowers near the Şanzelize Boutique could become a way to approach the forbidden places.

He responded by redrawing Istanbul in his mind as a system of restrictions. The Şanzelize Boutique, the Merhamet Apartments, the police station, Alaaddin’s shop, Kuyulu Bostan Street, and Emlak Avenue became red zones from which he was absolutely barred. Orange streets were permissible only in an emergency, if he had not been drinking and could cross in under a minute without stopping. Even his home and Teşvikiye Mosque were orange, because lingering there might aggravate his suffering. Yellow routes were dangerous in a less absolute way: they included his accustomed path to the Merhamet Apartments and the road Füsun had taken from the boutique to her home. The map also marked places tied to older memories, including the empty lot where lambs were sacrificed and the mosque-courtyard corner where he had watched her from afar. He treated these prohibitions as an ascetic regimen that might slowly cure him.

Apparitions and the Expanding City

Avoidance could not keep Füsun out of Kemal’s imagination. He sometimes saw her in crowded public places, including near the Dolmabahçe Clock Tower, at Beşiktaş Market, or looking down from a third-floor window in Gümüşsuyu. The figure at the window waved back, but the gesture disclosed that she was only a ghostly double. Kemal felt shame at the mistake, yet the apparition also fed a fantasy that Füsun had begun a new life nearby and still wanted to see him.

He knew these sightings were products of his unhappy imagination, but the brief consolation they offered was difficult to surrender. He began frequenting places where a ghost might appear and added them to his mental map. The city became a field of signs pointing back to Füsun; because the apparitions came during slow walks with his gaze fixed in the distance, he made a practice of walking slowly and looking ahead. At clubs and parties with Sibel, especially after too much raki, the mirages threatened the relationship he still had. The beaches of Kilyos and Şile were particularly associated with sightings on hot, tiring summer afternoons, when his attention was dulled and he saw Füsun among crowds of young women.

Objects as Makeshift Treatment

Kemal’s return to the streets marked as forbidden briefly persuaded him that he was recovering. Passing Alaaddin’s shop and childhood shopping streets felt easy at first; seeing the Şanzelize Boutique from a distance soon brought the pain back. He thought he saw Füsun inside, hurried across, and only then recognized another apparition. The encounter made his refuge in nightclubs and parties seem false to him and sharpened his sense that his emotional life remained bound to Füsun.

Within minutes he was at the Merhamet Apartments, lying on the bed and searching the sheets for her fading scent. He embraced them, then picked up a Glass paperweight he had given Füsun as a present on June 2. She had left it behind rather than risk arousing her mother’s suspicions. Inhaling from the glass brought immediate relief, and he held and smelled it for an uncertain length of time. He concealed this visit from Sibel, reporting instead that the doctor had not helped him and that he would not return.

The relief lasted only briefly. Three days later, Kemal came back and handled a brush spattered with many colors of oil paint, sweeping it over his skin and putting it in his mouth like an infant examining a toy. He recognized that he was becoming dependent on objects that eased his distress without helping him forget Füsun. The visits, lasting about two hours every two or three days, remained hidden from Sibel and, in a sense, from himself. At first he regarded the objects as a patient might regard medicines, not as a collector’s treasures.

From Relief to Collection

The objects accumulated through repeated visits. Alongside the paperweight and paintbrush were an old turban case inherited from Kemal’s grandfather, a fez Füsun had worn while clowning, and his mother’s discarded shoes, which Füsun had also tried on; both women wore size 38. When familiar agony returned, he searched for whatever she might have touched: a teacup, hair clip, ruler, comb, eraser, or ballpoint pen. He also rummaged among useless things his mother had banished to the apartment, knowing that Füsun had handled or played with them.

Each object brought its attached memories into view, so that finding things became a way of reliving the days when he and Füsun had sat together. The collection therefore grew out of an ambivalence: he longed for anything that recalled her, yet also wanted to flee the apartment and the reminders that exposed the persistence of his affliction. Temporary relief encouraged the hope that he might resume his former life, marry Sibel, and become happy; before long, the old suffering returned and sent him back to the objects. The cycle, rather than curing his longing, enlarged the collection.

A City Rewritten by Longing

Kemal’s collecting began inside the apartment, but the same attachment reshaped his experience of Istanbul. While searching for Füsun and her family, he drove and walked through poor neighborhoods including Vefa, Zeyrek, Fatih, and Kocamustafapaşa. A supposed sighting could bring him to a sudden stop; even after realizing that the figure was not Füsun, he stayed, reasoning that her double’s appearance meant she must be nearby. A broken marble fountain, cat-filled square, and walls marked with political slogans and death threats could then seem enchanted rather than alarming. He wanted to spend more time in the neighborhood’s coffeehouses and streets, and to live more like the people among whom he imagined Füsun and her family.

Later, after Füsun and Kemal were meeting again in Beyoğlu, the city’s spaces held a different form of closeness. They chose cinemas in Galatasaray, found secluded seats, and held hands in the cool darkness. In one theater, Füsun’s hand landed on Kemal’s lap before he had reached out for it. These meetings did not undo the earlier pattern of absence and recollection; they show how strongly his attachment had made particular routes, rooms, streets, and ordinary objects carry emotional weight. The collection’s first purpose was relief, but its deeper logic was preservation: whatever Füsun had touched could keep a trace of her present to him.