Do We Ever Return Home as the Same Person?
The Room
I was eighteen when I left home for university.
I had a room, and inside that room, a life that was clearly mine: my books, my desk, my belongings. I knew where I belonged in that house.
I moved to a city I had never seen before. I studied, lived, and eventually started working. I assumed I would return after a few years.
I did not.
One city led to another, one job to the next. While I was building a life elsewhere, my family moved house. The room I had left behind disappeared with the old address.
Years later, when I returned to the city where I was born, my family was living in another home.
There was room for me, of course.
But I no longer had a room of my own.
I had a suitcase.
It was a small difference, but a clear one. Making room for someone is not the same as returning to a place that was already yours.
The city still had the same name. My family was still there. But the life I remembered had not been waiting for me.
While I was away, the house had changed. The routines had changed. The people had changed.
So had I.
Those who leave tend to preserve home exactly as they remember it. The room remains untouched. The same people sit in the same chairs. The street, the house and the life inside it all seem to pause until we return.
But time does not pause for those who stay.
Perhaps that is the first truth about going home: we return looking for what we remember and often find a life that has continued without us.
My place was no longer a room.
It was a suitcase waiting to be opened.
Returning to Ithaca
That may be why Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey felt less like a story about distance to me than a story about return.
Homer's epic opens with Odysseus absent. Suitors have occupied his home. Telemachus has grown up without truly knowing his father. Penelope has had to wait while also protecting her family, her home and her right to decide her own future.
Before Odysseus reaches Ithaca, another story has already been unfolding there.
Nolan holds these two movements together: the voyage from Troy and the life that carries on in the traveller's absence.
Polyphemus, Circe, the Sirens and the descent into the underworld are more than obstacles along a route. Each encounter changes the man who is trying to return.
Odysseus survives not simply because he is strong. He knows when to speak, when to conceal his identity and how to read the person standing before him.
But wit does not protect him from time.
By the time he reaches Ithaca, Telemachus is no longer a child. Penelope is no longer simply a wife waiting by a window. The suitors have begun to treat his absence not as a temporary interruption, but as a new order.
Odysseus must enter his own home as a stranger.
Even the famous bow test is more than a display of strength. The weapon no one else can use feels like the last object in the house that still recognises its owner.
The film is enormous in scale: open seas, gods, monsters, war and a wide cast. Yet beneath all of that is something simple.
A man is trying to go home.
And as he gets closer, he begins to understand that the sea may not be the hardest part of the journey.
Reaching Ithaca is one thing.
Finding a place in the life that now exists there is another.
Nolan shot The Odyssey entirely with IMAX film cameras. Yet only 41 cinemas worldwide could present it in the full 15/70 mm IMAX format, and none of them were in Türkiye. We saw the film, but not quite in the form it was designed to be seen.
A pity.
Then again, is the most technically complete version of a work always the one that stays with us?
Do We Divide Our Lives into Songs?
In a recent essay for The New Yorker, Mitch Therieau writes about the way pop careers are increasingly organised into "eras" rather than albums. Tours now bring different versions of an artist's past onto the same stage, turning a catalogue of songs into a timeline of identities.
The idea belongs to pop culture, but it is difficult not to turn it towards ourselves.
If every period of our life has its own music, do we return to an earlier version of ourselves when an old song begins?
University years. A first job. A first love. A loss. A journey. A new beginning.
We may forget the dates, yet remember exactly what we were listening to.
A song does not merely remind us of an event. It brings back the room, the weather, the people around us and sometimes the person we were at the time.
Perhaps we divide our lives into songs more accurately than we divide them into years.
But if we grow older, what happens to the songs?
Does a Song Grow Older with the Singer?
The words may remain the same.
The melody may remain the same.
The person singing them does not.
A song performed at twenty cannot mean exactly the same thing when it is performed at sixty. The years enter the voice. So do loss, fatigue, joy and everything that happened between the two performances.
Listen to Neşet Ertaş singing Yalan Dünya.
What stops us is not only the song itself.
It is the slight tremor in his voice. The breath that runs a little longer. The word that seems to break almost imperceptibly as he sings it.
We hear something of ourselves in those imperfections because none of our lives is a flawless recording. There are moments when our voices fail, our words remain unfinished and we miss the note we were trying to reach.
Today, almost every imperfection can be removed. A breath can be hidden. A note can be corrected. A rough edge can be polished away.
But when every flaw disappears, what remains is not always more beautiful.
Sometimes it is simply cleaner, smoother and less human.
What makes Neşet Ertaş's Yalan Dünya unforgettable is not that his voice never breaks.
It is that he does not hide the place where it does.
Perfection can inspire admiration.
But we often recognise ourselves in another person's imperfections.
Must We Understand a Painting?
If we can love a voice without explaining the crack in it, why do we become so anxious in front of a painting?
We often try to understand before we have properly looked.
Who made it? When? What movement does it belong to? What was the artist trying to say?
When we do not know the answers, we assume we have failed to understand the work.
Children approach art differently.
At Pera Museum's 2026 summer workshops, children were invited to search for stories inside landscapes, turn clouds into characters and respond to artworks through collage, puppetry and animation. They were not asked to discover the correct explanation. They were encouraged to build a relationship with what they saw.
Children look at a painting and see a possible story.
Adults often look at the label first.
Perhaps not every painting is asking to be decoded.
Some may simply ask us to stay for a moment, notice a detail or pay attention to what happens inside us while we look.
If we can love the break in a singer's voice without explaining it, perhaps we can stand before a painting without knowing everything about it.
Sometimes looking is enough.
When Big Dreams Shrink, Where Does Happiness Fit?
Sometimes looking is enough.
Sometimes buying something small feels easier.
A good coffee. A favourite dessert. A short trip. Something inexpensive that improves the day.
A 2026 Capgemini study of 12,000 consumers across 12 countries found that seven in ten people were turning to small indulgences to cope with financial pressure.
There is nothing wrong with doing something kind for ourselves.
The question changes when small rewards begin to replace the life we keep postponing.
A home. A long journey. Greater security. A future that feels open.
As those ambitions move further away, happiness is divided into smaller portions.
"I deserved this today," we say.
Perhaps we did.
But are we happy, or are we simply repairing our mood for a few hours?
The real issue may not be the coffee or the dessert.
It may be whether the larger dreams still feel possible.
Sometimes people settle for small things not because they have discovered contentment, but because they no longer believe in what lies further ahead.
Perhaps happiness does not become smaller.
It simply searches for a smaller place in which to fit.
Who Looks After What We Do Not Own?
We pay close attention to the small things that make us feel better.
Do we show the same care towards things that do not belong to us?
World Ranger Day marked its twentieth year in 2026 under the theme "Rangers: Guardians of a Changing Planet," recognising those who protect natural and cultural heritage they do not personally own.
But the question is not only about rangers.
Do we need to own something before we take care of it?
We keep our own homes clean, yet treat the apartment stairwell differently.
We protect a tree in our garden, yet may walk past damage to a tree in the street.
We care for our tables, cars and belongings. What is shared is easily assigned to somebody else.
Perhaps that is how what belongs to everyone gradually begins to belong to no one.
A park. A shoreline. A street.
Places we do not own, but use every day.
Responsibility does not always begin with ownership.
Sometimes it begins simply because we are there.
Protecting what belongs to us is easy.
The real question is how we treat what will belong to those who come after us.
How Much Can Spectacle Hide?
Looking after something also means looking beyond its surface.
The Berlin Olympic Games opened on 1 August 1936.
The stadiums were full. The ceremonies were impressive. Germany presented itself as modern, orderly and strong.
But the image had been carefully prepared.
The Nazi regime temporarily removed anti-Jewish signs and reduced visible persecution in order to present foreign visitors with a peaceful and tolerant version of Germany. The Games became a successful propaganda stage, concealing the regime's antisemitism, repression and growing militarism. Leni Riefenstahl's Olympia later gave that spectacle an enduring cinematic form.
The images were beautiful.
The beauty did not change what was behind them.
Ninety years later, the scale may be different, but the habit remains familiar.
On social media, we see perfect lives.
Companies show their achievements, not their failures.
People share the moments in which they look well, feel well and appear certain.
What we see is not always false.
It is simply rarely the whole truth.
Spectacle attracts attention. A carefully prepared image can delay the question of what is happening outside the frame.
The problem is not that something looks beautiful.
The problem begins when beauty takes the place of truth.
A Little More Attention
Perhaps everything in this essay leads back to the same place.
Returning home. Hearing an old song. Standing before a painting. Holding on to a small pleasure. Caring for what belongs to everyone. Looking behind a carefully arranged image.
Each asks for a little more attention.
Life rarely announces itself in a loud voice.
It leaves signs.
In a suitcase.
In the break inside a song.
In the corner of a painting.
In the brief comfort of a cup of coffee.
In a street we assume belongs to no one.
In what lies just beyond the image.
Perhaps that is what Saturday is for.
Not stepping away from life, but returning to it with better attention.
Because what we are looking for is not always far away.
Sometimes it is simply waiting for us to look more closely.
Editorial Note, Attribution and Rights
This essay is an original English-language work by Orkun Akçasarı. It draws on the same personal experience and conceptual architecture as the Turkish edition, but it was conceived and written anew in English rather than translated line by line.
The personal narrative, selection and ordering of subjects, transitions between them, interpretations, comparisons and conclusions are the author's own. The essay's distinctive expression and written structure should not be confused with the underlying ideas or historical facts, which may also be discussed by others.
Books, films, songs, artworks, institutions, research findings and historical events mentioned in this essay are discussed for the purposes of criticism, review, cultural commentary and factual context. Any brief quotation is identified as such; summaries and interpretations are expressed in the author's own words.
The inclusion of a person, publication, organisation, brand, film or artistic work does not imply endorsement of Orkun Akçasarı, AGORA — Saturday Essays, or the views expressed in this essay. All names, titles, trademarks and third-party works remain the property of their respective rights holders. No sponsorship, commercial partnership or official affiliation is claimed.
Sources were reviewed against information available on the publication date. Online pages, event details and technical information may subsequently change. Any demonstrable factual error may be corrected transparently without altering the authorship or essential character of the work.
© 2026 Orkun Akçasarı. All rights reserved.
Except where permitted by applicable law, this essay—or any substantial, original and recognisable part of it—may not be reproduced, republished, adapted, translated, recorded, distributed, commercially exploited or presented under another name without the author's prior written permission.
Permitted short quotations must clearly identify: Orkun Akçasarı; "Do We Ever Return Home as the Same Person?"; AGORA — Saturday Essays; and the original publication URL.
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Sources and Further Reading
Publication date: 2 August 2026
Sources last reviewed: 2 August 2026
Literature and Film
Homer. The Odyssey. Translated into English prose by Samuel Butler.
Project Gutenberg.
Primary literary source for Odysseus, Penelope, Telemachus, the suitors, the
voyage home and the recognition scenes.
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1727
Universal Pictures / Syncopy. "The Odyssey — Official Synopsis."
Official production synopsis, director, principal cast and release information.
https://www.odysseymovie.com/synopsis/
IMAX. "The Odyssey in IMAX 70mm Film."
Official information on the film's IMAX production format and the participating
15/70 mm IMAX theatres.
https://www.imax.com/news/the-odyssey-in-imax-70mm-film
Music, Memory and Cultural Context
Mitch Therieau. "Forget Albums—Pop Stars Measure Their Careers in
Eras Now." The New Yorker, 1 August 2026.
Source for the discussion of pop careers, live performance and personal history
being organised into distinct "eras."
Kırşehir Provincial Directorate of Culture and Tourism. "Neşet
Ertaş."
Biographical and cultural background on Neşet Ertaş, the Anatolian Abdal
tradition, bozlak music and his approach to performance.
https://kirsehir.ktb.gov.tr/TR-249493/neset-ertas.html
TRT 1. "Neşet."
Documentary reference on Neşet Ertaş's life, musical legacy and repertoire,
including Ah Yalan Dünya.
https://www.trt1.com.tr/tv/belgesel/neset
Art and Ways of Looking
Pera Museum. "Summer Holiday Workshops." 29 July–7 August 2026.
Source for the children's workshops involving close observation, stories hidden
in landscapes, imagined characters, collage, puppetry, flipbooks and animation.
https://www.peramuzesi.org.tr/pera-ogrenme/program/yaz-tatili-atolyeleri/6464
Everyday Life and Small Indulgences
Capgemini Research Institute. "Consumers Are Balancing Spending on
Essentials with Small Indulgences That Provide an Emotional Boost." 6 January
2026.
Based on a survey of 12,000 adults across 12 countries; the research reports
that seven in ten consumers use small indulgences to cope with financial
pressure.
Capgemini Research Institute. What Matters to Today's Consumer 2026.
Full research report on consumer priorities, pressures and spending behaviour.
https://www.capgemini.com/us-en/insights/research-library/what-matters-to-todays-consumer-2026/
Shared Responsibility and the Natural World
International Ranger Federation. "2026 World Ranger Day."
Source for World Ranger Day, observed on 31 July, and the 2026 theme, "Rangers:
Guardians of a Changing Planet."
https://www.internationalrangers.org/world-ranger-day-2026/
History, Propaganda and Spectacle
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. "The Nazi Olympics: Berlin
1936."
Source for the Nazi regime's use of the Berlin Olympics as propaganda, the
temporary concealment of antisemitic policies, the presentation of a peaceful
Germany and Leni Riefenstahl's Olympia.
https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/the-nazi-olympics-berlin-1936
Jesse Owens. "Biography: The Story of the Olympic Legend."
Biographical source confirming Jesse Owens's four gold medals at the 1936
Berlin Olympic Games.
https://jesseowens.com/biography/
Copyright and Authorship References
Republic of Türkiye, Ministry of Culture and Tourism, General
Directorate of Copyright. "General Questions."
Official guidance on protected works, authorship, moral rights and economic
rights.
https://telifhaklari.ktb.gov.tr/TR-332449/genel-sorular.html
Republic of Türkiye, Ministry of Culture and Tourism. "Voluntary
Registration."
Official guidance explaining that copyright belongs to the creator; voluntary
registration does not create the right but may assist in establishing
authorship.
https://telifhaklari.ktb.gov.tr/TR-332370/istege-bagli-kayit-tescil.html