them what she wanted
to learn and say what she wanted to say. And his son would spend
time with the boys living in their building and rarely be at
home.

The neighbors would flow like a river with its many branches
here and there across Mastan's rooms, not leaving the slightest
chance for Mastan and his family to even talk or look at each
other.

As the years passed, Mastan got used to this world of his.

Even when the lights would go out at night, Mastan would sense
that everyone in the whole building was sleeping with him in
his own bed. Even in his dreams, Mastan wouldn't lose his control
over himself.

In fact there was no difference at all between Mastan's work
and home. They both seemed like a dormitory to him. The only
difference between the dormitory ofthe technical school and
this one was that the tenants of that dormitory were temporary,
but these were permanent.

Sometimes, especially at nights when Mastan was thinking about
this, he would become horrified. He arrived at the conclusion
after thinking a lot that he would have to live in this damned
dormitory for the rest of his life, having a great desire for
freedom and independence. When thinking like this, Mastan's hair
would stand on end. The most frustrating moments were related
to thinking about the end of his life for even when dying, he
would be together with his neighbors.
It was impossible for him to imagine that he would be allowed
to lie alone in some cemetery, far from his neighbors, and that
his neighbors would live quietly in their houses as if nothing
happened. Mastan's building really resembled a