Once upon a time the center of my hometown was a Turkish cemetery. Years ago the square was excavated. Skulls and bones could be seen in the mounds of earth. People passed them with indifference, careful not to trip over the remains.

I often pass by the ruins of old buildings. Sometimes I enter one of them to climb stairs leading nowhere, to linger on mosaic-covered floors, to enter wall-less rooms where laughter once sounded. The traces of a once affluent life are covered with debris and dust. Back then, during the long bright days, in moments of bliss, did the lurking shadow of fate flit over their thoughts? Who can know that today? Only among ruins one can feel the speed of time running out.