The Way of Retelling - thediplomaticaffairs.com

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Culture Recent Post World February 23, 2026

The Way of Retelling

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt a deep need to possess a specific talent. I wasn’t naturally gifted in sports or the arts. Growing up, my height meant I was constantly called for basketball tryouts; even though I hated it, I attended every single one, thinking that perhaps this was where I would finally shine. My family raised me within such standard boundaries that becoming a conventional child felt like an unavoidable path. This prospect was terrifying. It wasn’t that I necessarily wanted to be “different,” but I desperately wanted to be someone who actually creates. I immersed myself in books; my hunger for knowledge was on an entirely different level. Often, there is a gap between the creativity in one’s mind and the technical skills needed to bring it out. Words may fail to express a vision, drawings might let a creator down, and the urge to retell what is seen through a personal lens can get stuck in the throat.

In those moments, the obsession with being perfect gets in the way of actually doing, pushing a person into a void. Instead of just starting the work, we often try to make something perfect before it even exists. But working with zero always gives you zero as a result.

I began visiting sahafs¹ more frequently to look for what I could borrow from “lived lives.” As I experienced more, the desire to create built up behind a dam of perfectionism. It is important to realize that knowledge doesn’t belong to just one person; this realization fueled my need to tell stories. When I understood that my current skills couldn’t bridge the gap between my thoughts and my hands, I found a new way: Collage. Giving a new direction to things that already exist. One is not always expected to “reconquer the city” or break entirely new ground. Collage first liberated me from my perfectionism, it gave me the freedom to use everything to make anything, and finally, I found a medium where I could pour my soul.

However, being overwhelmed by this freedom was unavoidable. The possibilities were so vast and I had so many tools at my disposal that I was constantly excited. Yet, my blank pages weren’t filling up. It is easy to be spoiled by infinite choices and end up not moving an inch. We must realize that no one can stop movement, and nothing that is alive can stay still forever. Knowing I was alive but being unable to show it became frustrating. I had to express myself. It didn’t matter how.

Life is essentially a collection of different parts coming together. Unless we are raised in a glass jar, we become who we are through a mix of many different lives. Whenever I tried to break away from this whole to be just one single piece, everything that didn’t fit that piece turned into chaos. Since nothing living can stay the same, a human being cannot remain static either. When I started seeing every “meaningless” scrap I put on a blank page as a step toward a larger purpose, I began to curate the chaos I created instead of trying to destroy it. Instead of trying to be a perfect whole from a single piece, I focused on being “something about anything” through seemingly unrelated parts.

Instead of struggling for a single, perfect unity, I recreated something exactly as it was. At the end of the day, what I had was proof that I could keep going, that I could quit and start over, and that I could make changes until the very last second. In short, it was proof that I was not dead.

By Senanur Ünen

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