To you, who fall asleep on the helo deck.

"Sleep tight baby, sleep tight."

I mumbled your name every time you lost the signal, every time those double ticks marks on WhatsApp didn't turn to blue, also every time you didn't wake me up at my shady dawn.

I'm thanking God for bringing you as the core component of my happy life; for every food we ate, for every road we passed, for every laugh we shared, for every snap we clicked, and for every heartbeat we felt. As a loud talker, I maybe criticise you a lot, on the other hand you are so truly calm; deeply hearing to my captious babble, quietly understanding my thoughts.

Do you sleep well? Eat well? Exercise well? Those questions haunt me. Me, for 20 days speaking in robotic, monotonous drones. I waste my time by personally buffering to moving visual image, listening to some songs that resemble to you, and pluckily cooking foods you command me to do.

How's the weather? Is it nice to you? How about the sky? Is it clear enough to be seen? How about the crystal sea? Is it okay to jump in? You, the one who regales me with stories of your distant travel, please come back home soon.

See you when I see you, my lovely jewish companion.