Wherever I go, no one would notice me. I don't have a home, a family. I am alone, always. Some people say I follow the wind. Wherever the wind blows, I'd follow it. People would pity me, even though I don't want to be pitied. They think I always feel lonely, it's true. But even though I'm alone, I'm free. Free to go anywhere I want, and no one'd care. There are times when people would notice me, and they'd start talking to me. I wouldn't say much, just, 'Thanks for noticing me,' or something like that. I don't talk much, I just don't know why.

I'm Ayşe Karabulut. Some people talk about the killing of the Karabulut family, but I'm not sure which, since there are so many families with the name. And I, unfortunately, have no recollection of my past. Every time I try to remember it, my head would spin like a top, and I would end up falling on the ground.

All I do every day is find a place to stay, even though I'd stay there for just one night. After all, a girl like me can never build a proper house overnight. Then the next morning I would go out on the streets.

Tonight, I have decided to stay in a narrow road next to a house. As I walk past the house, I see something - looks like two children playing - through a window, as my mind flies, thinking about the comfort and warmth of being one of them. A larger figure, of a woman - I guess their mother - came to them, maybe telling them to go to bed.

I sit down on the ground, my back against the wall. I take my bag, and try to take a box of matches with my uncovered hands. After trying so many times, I can finally take the box out of my bag. I take one, and try to strike it, as it is not easy work trying to do it with hands that are almost frostbitten. And the blaze of light and warmth coming from the lighted match feels like victory. I bring my fingers close to the flame, feeling the heat coming back to me. I put the fire out, and try to reach another item in my bag - a blanket. I wrap myself in it and fall asleep on the ground.