I started to look at the world around me looking first at him, studying the lines on his face. I tried to look to the world by his eyes until I got further than his horizon.
I never counted how many portraits of him I did till my now (I still cannot draw him with my closed eyes though). I stopped sketching him at least 10 years ago. I never sat down and said out aloud the reasons why (the "Fathers and Sons" issue will always be alive, for each generation, definetely I never was exception). And one of the reasons is obvious. His portrait is so rich, the expressions... Dad has on his face so many lines that you hear his thoughts shouting even when he is quiet for hours. I listened, I tried and still trying to read them but never reached the end. I will never...
My father is the biggest teacher (after life). Not only for me. It is indescribable feeling to be a daughter of such a wise man, but at the same time huge responsibility. Realising power of his word in the science of literature (and not only there) puts on my shoulders the goal to reach in the world of thoughts as far as I can, to get to the truth and keep seeking it everywhere... keep asking, keep questioning, keep understanding your inside... keep looking outside, to the life... keep going... That is the world my father taught me. Be a person. Be an individual.
Happy birthday, dad! Happy birthday, müəllim!