I got out of the taxi.
I was disappointed to find out that they had thrown me out of my room and sent me to a big beach villa. They had taken my laptop and placed a monitor in front of me with only three keys: zero, one, and two. I had to write my report with those three keys. Every time I typed a letter with those three keys, the next letter would disappear and the word would be incomplete. I felt trapped and helpless. Some people came in and showed me a paper that indicated half of the bed belonged to the municipality. They divided the bed in half and took their share. I had lost my glasses and was trying to find the missing letter under the bed when I remembered it was left under the half that they had taken. I jumped out of bed, my head was pounding. I drank two glasses of water and opened the door. There was a private number texted to me: “Blue blood.” I had walked from the taxi.

I headed towards the park.
“It was certain that Mr. Privacy had encrypted his message, for example, it meant ‘Room 324, Esteghlal Hotel, at 4:33’. There was no need to calculate angles or draw lines to show the ‘power’ hands at 4:33. The first time I missed it. I couldn’t go. But hadn’t they said it was the last time? Hadn’t they not fired me after that? I don’t know. There’s no way. I stormed out of the room, feeling a bit nervous and angry. I walked aimlessly. I had no destination. North? Suddenly a heavy weight with an even heavier shake hit the back of my head and neck in the middle of the street. I didn’t have time to gather myself, I couldn’t even turn my head towards it. The sound of footsteps and threatening shouts from behind saying ‘Don’t go… Don’t go… Don’t go…’. I crawled on all fours for

I stood under the small park entrance.
What kind of soup did they cook for me this time? Where did they want to send me? If I don’t go, where do I have to go? Last time they threatened to take away my dignity. I had agreed, but my dignity got worse. That’s when they punished me, but in reality they had expelled me. I was unemployed. Should I have accepted Mr. Parayev’s offer? The money was always good. But for how long? If they have a plan and want to throw me to the lions, what can I do? Last time they had given eight of their best friends a cut, the money was good, but they fired me. They took away my dignity too. It’s unlikely. This city has as many holes as the intestines of the devil. I will definitely send myself somewhere else. Why should I go back there at all? I was standing under the small park’s canopy.

I observed them, saw them and headed towards them.
This is it. I’m going back to them. Without any lies, tricks, or deceit. I can’t say anything, when I’ve turned my path from the northernmost and southernmost points of these devilish intestines and returned to them, right where I last betrayed their best friends, they will understand that I have nothing left to lose, they will understand that I am just like them! A taxi! I had been observing them, I had seen them and I had followed them towards them.

I arrived next to a bench where they were gathered. We have taken life for granted, what for? Are they the ones who have jobs, have a place, have coded meetings in blue-blooded hotel lobbies, have books, have rights and duties, have a government, have a vote, and have honor? They have become a joke. What about us? Who? Us? We don’t have anything. Yesterday we were in the underground workshop of the palace, scared,

They turned their face towards me.
Those who are in love with rebels, whose daughters and sons and sisters and brothers are all rebels, those who think their blood will never turn into water, but their water is also bloody, their soil and asphalt are also melting muscles and shattered bones of their fellow blood and breath, they definitely accept me. Those who on this side of the highway of mobilization, from the degree of sunburn on their faces and arms and arms, from the level of heat of their breaths and the number of beats of their veins protruding from their temples, know their poor fellow tribesmen on the other side of the highway, whatever it may be, even if it is a spy who has returned from exile, they call out to him by his small name and accept him. They had turned their faces towards me.

They asked, “Are you yourself or not?”

And I, with my poor physical strength, showed them my arm and my dismissal letter. They had asked, “Are you a rebel or not?” And I, with my poor physical strength, had shown them my arm and my dismissal letter.