I recently read a book written by Orhan Pamuk called Istanbul: Memories and the City. In this book, the author recalled his past and the history of Istanbul. Combined with hundreds of black-and-white photos, we can easily immerse ourselves in its narrative. That kind of sadness, that kind of melancholy (huzun).

"Huzun" is a Turkish word that means sadness or melancholy, but it has a richer connotation in Turkish culture, specifically referring to a collective complex emotion related to the history and mental state of the city.

But I think that huzun does not only exist among Turks. When I try to conceive the outline of Istanbul in my mind through Pamuk’s words, I gradually realise my deviation. Because the harder I think, the more details I get involved with, the closer the image I envision is to the appearance of my hometown. The difference is that the hometown that I am familiar with has been completely erased by people, and the brand-new buildings are built on this ruin, which is no different from any other modern cities in the world. Those buildings that retain the memories of a generation, those landmarks that have witnessed the changes of the times, and those who have loved and hated when they were young, have all become dust in history, but only in the memories of our generation. The existence of this kind of memory is so fragile that we don't seem to remember where we come from. Nothing is left for reference. We have become rootless people. That is the reason why we are confused and panicked. Like the people of Istanbul, we carry thousands of years of glorious history and culture.

The long history of Istanbul has not destroyed this, and neither have the countless wars and rules. But we fell a thousand feet in the 19th and 20th centuries. Quoting Pamuk’s words in the book: “This place has never been so poor, dilapidated and isolated in her 2,000-year history.” Then, we destroyed everything in the Revolution in the 1920s. And now, after experiencing a vigorous era, we seem to fall into a “huzun” mood. Our architecture, our culture, our faith, everything is changing so quickly. But how much have we changed? Where should we, the nation, go?

The fact is, our architecture has become uncharacteristic, our culture has been incomplete, and we no longer follow the spirit advocated by our ancestors. Istanbul at least retains its buildings, and people walk in the streets and alleys in teal clothes. Although Orhan said it was "a way of mourning for a city that had fallen for 150 years", they still had at least 150 years to mourn. But what about us? 

That is why when we talk about ourselves – no matter how loud we are and how we compare, we always feel a hidden panic in our hearts. Because the things we are proud of were destroyed by ourselves, and now we are trying to miss them. In the face of the dramatic changes and encounters of the times, we are at a loss. Everything we used to be familiar with has become alienated, and individuals cannot do anything about it, so we are left with only sadness and paralysis.

And the so-called “huzun” lies in the fact that we no longer love our cities anymore.