A few days had passed since the fair, but the buzz of the crowd, the gazes of people, and the vibration I felt at that moment still echoed within me. Every time I entered my studio, it was as if even the canvas there was silently whispering to me: "A greater path awaits you now."
One morning, I found an envelope on my desk. It contained a foreign address, a gallery logo from Berlin beneath… My fingers trembled slightly. I slowly opened the envelope, my heart pounding. Inside was an elegant letter:
"Dear Lina,
It was a great opportunity for us to encounter your works at the fair in Istanbul. 'The Silence of Colors', in particular, made a deep impression on our audience. We would be honored to see your works in a new group exhibition at our gallery in Berlin."
My throat tightened as my eyes glided over the lines. This wasn't just an invitation; it was the opening of my dream door. But then a shadow loomed over me: What if I accept and can't? What if I'm left alone? What if my family disapproves?
I folded the letter and pressed it to my heart. That's when Emir called. My voice trembling, I opened it:
—"I've received an invitation from… Berlin," I said.
There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone, then his voice was heard:
—"Lina… this is incredible! We need to celebrate. But tell your family first, right?"
A chill ran through me at that moment. How was I going to tell my family? Would my father be proud, or would they look at me with concern? My mother… even imagining her face made me nervous.
My heart was pounding as I sat at the dinner table. As I turned the soup spoon over and over in my hand, my father realized:
—"You're trying to tell me something," he said.
I took a deep breath.
—"I've received an invitation from Berlin. A gallery wants my paintings for an exhibition."
My father's eyes lit up. He gently placed his fork down on the table:
—"Really? My daughter… this is a big deal. I'm proud of you."
A warm wave spread through me at that moment. But when I looked at my mother's face, that warmth fell like a cold stone. Her lips were pressed together.
"Berlin? Another country? Are you going alone?" she asked. There was a distance in her voice, tinged with anxiety.
A thousand things were racing through my mind at that moment, but I answered quietly:
"Yes. This is an opportunity for me. I'm scared, but I want to try."
My father turned to my mother and said softly:
"This is her dream. Our duty is to support her."
But my mother lowered her eyes to the floor, remaining silent.
That night, as I sat in my room, my emotions were mixed. My father's pride warmed my heart, while my mother's silence weighed down on my heart. Just then, Emir texted:
"Look at the sky. The stars are also illuminating your path."
I clutched my phone tightly in my hand. I looked out the window; the sky was crystal clear. I thought I heard an answer in the silence of the stars: "Don't be afraid. A wider horizon awaits you."
I decided then. I would confront my fears. This path wouldn't be easy, but my paintings were now beyond me; they were stories growing with the breath of the world.
I picked up my brush and dabbed the first color onto a new canvas. The following thought passed through my mind:
— "I'm going to Berlin."
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