The Dance of the Shadow on the Prison Walls

In the corners of politics, where footsteps intersect and opposites intertwine, movement is never a coincidence, nor is transformation a whim. It is always a manifestation of hidden struggles woven in secrecy and announced in public through shifting masks. Today, as the gates of Imrali Prison are approached, it is not a plea for freedom, but a pursuit of a larger game, the game of power that recognizes no spring except the one it sacrifices.

The visit to a prisoner on a forgotten island has become a stage upon which the future of a nation is performed. While some declare their intent to walk toward that place, others refuse the step, not out of fear of the prisoner, but out of fear of a people who may one day awaken and ask: Why did we lie? Why did we kill in the name of unity when we knew the cracks had already begun within the wall?

Yet the enduring truth is that none of these movements revolve around Kord´-or-Turk, nor around peace´-or-war, but around a struggle between two figures. One carries a name and the other carries a shadow. The president who built his throne on the ruins of the constitution, and the leader who pulls the strings from behind the curtain, both use the cause as a tool, never as a goal. When the former says, “I will go to Imrali,” he is merely brandishing the sword of rebellion against the one he once believed served his own sovereignty. And when the others refuse, they are not rejecting dialogue, but refusing to be assigned the role of victim in a play they did not write.

From here begins the false miracle: the talk of a solution in a country that no longer knows the meaning of law. How can we solve the problem of identity in a state that has lost its own? How can we speak of democracy while the courts tear apart judicial rulings and parliament remains silent before violations that overturn all constitutional foundations? There was once a moment, years ago, when the sun of hope rose. Weapons fell silent, the military stepped back, and the prisoner spoke from inside his cell. But it ended in blood, deceit, and betrayal. And today, the same scene is being replayed, but with new faces and the same old intention.

What is happening today is nothing more than a mirror reflecting the face of the state. Fragmented, shifting, searching for survival rather than justice. Every step taken in the name of peace is, in truth, a step toward securing power. Meanwhile, the people remain outside the game, watching, hurting, and asking: When will we escape this endless circle?
True freedom does not lie in visiting a prisoner, but in the return of conscience to life.

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