It began on a subway wall.
Spray-painted in red:
"WE REMEMBER LOUD."
Three days later, it was on a banner at a university protest.
Then it showed up on t-shirts.Notebooks.A viral video of a girl reciting a rewritten version of one of Emir's old poems—ending with:
"…and we remember loud,because silence was what broke us."
The caption?
— E. Kara
—
The phrase was credited to him.Reposted.Admired.
But Emir never said it.
In fact, he didn't even agree with it.
—
Narin was the one who told him first.
She threw a shirt onto the bookstore table.
— "You're a tagline now."
He read it.
Paused.
— "This sounds like shouting."
— "It is."
— "But we never shouted."
— "They did."
—
"And here it is," Atatürk said."The moment they claim your voice with a sentence you didn't write."
"Now you must decide:Correct it?Or let them own it and watch what it becomes."
—
Emir didn't answer.Instead, he walked through the city.
Watched a group of teenagers painting the slogan on a wall—laughing, singing.
Not angry.Alive.
One of them saw him.
Eyes widened.
She whispered something to the others.
They didn't run.They didn't bow.
They just kept painting.
—
Later that night, Emir sat on the tram depot bench.
Someone had carved the slogan into the wood.
"WE REMEMBER LOUD."
And beneath it, someone else had added in pen:
"But not always out loud."
He smiled.
Finally.
—
Back at the bookstore, he opened his notebook and wrote:
"I never said it.But they needed it."
"They remember loudbecause no one taught them they were allowed to whisper."
"And maybe it's not my voice anymore.Maybe it's their volume."