In his work titled 'Coup and Execution', Yavuz Selim Demirağ takes us back to those distant days of September storm, those sacred days of loneliness.
As we see these days, time longs for those days.
As our daggers tear, we feel like shouting, 'Everything is for the Turk, by the Turk, for the Turk'...
If we really shouted, would those days ever come back?
Perhaps if those days came back, would those who had official history written in their own names blush?
Would they be ashamed?