Memorial for the migrant

I went to the migrant's funeral, today. I heard about it on the feeds and lied to my mother about where I was going. She thought I was shopping, and insisting on doing it alone (because I always insist on shopping alone).

It was down near the water. I think it confused all the tourists, who kept on taking our pictures. (I should probably look for myself on somebody's feed, just in case. The hijab covers my hair, but not my face. If my father does a facial search for me, he'll know I was lying.) We tossed flowers into the water and stood quietly for a while. We have the man's name, but I won't type it here because I don't want this journal coming up in Google. (Silly, I know. I should just make this whole thing private, right? Especially with my sisters around. But I just can't bring myself to do it, for some reason.)

A university student read from The Odyssey. In classical Greek. I didn't know they even taught that kind of thing any longer. Just as he was leaving, I worked up the courage to ask him, and he said that no, they didn't, but he went to a private school growing up and elected a classics track toward his major. He has parts of Homer memorized.

His name is Ekrem, and he works at the film forum. He had passes to The Bicycle Thief, and invited me. I don't even remember accepting the tickets, just waving goodbye as he walked away. I don't know what this even means. Two tickets? Does he expect me to bring someone? (Did I mention my sisters? Probably. I'm always talking about them instead of myself, when I'm talking to strangers. It's so stupid that I don't even remember what I said!)

Either way, I suppose I should find out what this movie is about...