Winter Sleep Page #2

I'll come whenever it suits you.

- All right.

- Please, don't worry.

You waste your time with anybody.

Jerk. Scum of the earth.

- My apologies again.

- Who the hell are you?

OK, bye.

Have a good day.

Bastard. Son of a b*tch.

Fatma.

Come here.

What's that?

Your dowry.

What do you think?

Put them down.

Take these.

Leave them.

- Where shall I take them?

- Out back, to the terrace.

Careful, don't bump into anything.

Easy. Come on.

- Let me take it.

- I'm fine.

I'm off to get the window fixed.

- All right.

- Anything else?

No.

Should I get a brand-name

or generic product?

Where'll you get a brand?

Nowhere.

That's why I'm asking.

Huh?

Go on, Hidayet.

- Do we have guests?

- Levent the teacher is here.

- So they had tea?

- Yes, but they want coffee now.

What are you doing?

Not much.

Here's a hot drink for my brother.

That's nice of you.

Who'd care for me,

if you weren't around?

- We're out of lime, so I made sage.

- Don't worry, it's fine.

Don't stop. I'll just flick through

some magazines.

Sure.

Are you writing your column?

I'm trying to.

By the way, I read last week's.

I liked it.

Which one do you mean?

Urban ugliness in Anatolia.

Aesthetic deprivation and so on.

- Right.

- Bravo.

How do you come up with

interesting ideas every week?

Did you really like it?

It was good.

It's not about wealth and poverty.

Poverty existed in the past, too.

If you only have three olives,

you can place them nicely on a plate,

or gobble them

out of the plastic bag.

I know what you mean.

I told you we went to the hodja's?

You know, our tenant.

Yes?

If you saw how filthy it was,

how messy.

- Did you go in?

- No, I mean the garden.

They've ruined it.

A woman lives there too,

but you wouldn't think so.

First of all, you are a man of God.

You should be a model

to your community.

Shouldn't you be neat and tidy?

Who is he? Do I know him?

No, you wouldn't.

An old tenant

from back in my father's day.

I'd walk past him in the street.

Just a crooked, shabby guy.

I don't know...

Shouldn't men of God

be a model to the public?

Especially in rural areas.

Perhaps I should write about that

next week?

The very thought of him

gets on my nerves.

Of course, write about

anything you want.

But...

Wouldn't it be better to write

for a bigger paper

instead of a local one nobody reads?

Then at least it would be worth

all your efforts.

I don't feel I'm making any efforts.

I mean, I hear you typing away

in front of your computer all week.

That's why.

If you didn't bring me that paper,

I wouldn't even know it existed.

That's what I mean.

Frankly, I don't give a damn

about big papers.

My kingdom may be small

but at least I'm the king there.

I mean, who's going to read

this paper?

Who's going to buy it?

I don't agree with you,

my dear Necla.

On the contrary.

Sometimes I receive

letters from my readers

that prove to me

I'm on the right path.

Even my efforts, as you say,

feel more than worth it.

- Take yesterday...

- Yes but sometimes on the Internet,

some awful writers get praised

to high heaven.

Everyone has their fans somehow.

That's why I think one shouldn't

take such praise so seriously.

I mean, that shouldn't be

your reference.

Anyway, keep on writing.

Don't let me distract you.

I'll just lie down here.

In silence.

The mud makes driving up here hard.

Why don't you lay some gravel?

The tourists like it this way,

it's more natural.

I didn't say asphalt, I said gravel.

That's natural too.

With gravel,

half the tourists wouldn't come.

Very few clients in winter, in fact.

Wouldn't be worth it.

Of course nobody comes with this mud.

Don't want everyone here anyway.

I just want those who value

a natural setting.

Fancy a sprint?

- Fine.

- Good.

- Ready?

- Yes.

We're off!

Did you put on weight?

- What?

- You put on weight?

What weight, man?

My belly's declared independence.

- Be careful. Don't let yourself go.

- What if I did?

I've buried my wife.

I'm all alone.

It's you who should be worried.

With a young, beautiful wife.

If you don't look out, they'll be

asking if Nihal's your daughter.

Come on. I'm not that bad.

What about that mass suicide

around your hairline then?

It's no big deal, but...

You know that village, Garip,

near your farm...

Yes, but I've never been.

Whatever...

A girl from the public education

office wrote to me.

I don't usually care much

for that kind of thing.

But for some reason, I was touched.

Maybe I'm just getting old.

I wanted to ask you

whether I should take it seriously.

What's she after? A donation?

Nothing much, the main thing is...

Come in, Fatma.

I couldn't make out if she's sincere

or after something else.

Being a good judge of character,

you'll easily see

what's what from the letter.

I wanted to ask you.

- Where shall I put your tea?

- On the table's fine.

- Where is the letter?

- On the computer.

- Read it out then.

- Right, listen.

Thanks, Fatma.

Nihal loves charity like this.

Should we call her as well?

Go ahead. If you like.

- We should, shouldn't we?

- Yes.

I don't know if she's free.

Nihal?

Suavi's here,

we're discussing something.

I was wondering

if you're free to join us.

We need your opinion.

Yes, we're in my study.

All right, dear.

- She's coming.

- Good.

Mr Suavi, how are you?

Fine, thanks, and you?

Fine, thank you.

It's been a long time.

Are you doing OK?

I'm fine. No problems.

I don't leave the farm anyway.

What problems could there be?

How are your activities doing?

As usual. The same old routine.

But tell me what's your secret

for looking younger

and more beautiful every time?

That's very kind of you.

Thanks very much.

How is your daughter?

Does she come to visit?

Well, you know...

She came once when she graduated.

And when we lost her mother.

That was it really.

- She's still in London?

- Yes.

Why don't you join her?

Why stay here all alone?

Me?

Heaven forbid.

I can't stand that English husband

saying "Oh lovely" to everything.

Just don't talk like that.

So, let me tell Nihal.

I was saying to Suavi

I got a letter the other day.

A young girl who teaches needlecraft

in a local village.

In short, she's asking for help.

I'm not sure how to respond,

so I thought I'd ask you two.

What kind of help does she want?

Actually, the letter is here.

Shall I read it?

Sure. Go ahead.

All right then, I will.

Let me see.

Yes, here it is.

"Dear Mr Aydin,

"I would like you to know that...

"I am a great admirer of you

and your articles.

"I'm always eager

to read your weekly column

"in our local paper

'Voice of the Steppe',

"impatient to benefit from your vast

experience and courageous ideas.

"We, the teachers

at the Technical School for Girls,

"are proud that our town

has such a valued citizen."

Blah, blah, we can skip all this.

Yes... let's continue from there.

"We, a group of teachers,

"wanted to build

a small building in Garip,

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