Ravings on the Edge of Time
Versions of the Nonexistent
Every museum showcase is a portal. In Aksaray, the portal looks like a glass box, inside which lies something too small to be an adult, and too un-human to be just a child. They call it a mummy from the 10th–11th centuries, but who said that the chronicles of time cannot be compressed, rewritten, and sealed under a wax glaze?
Yoda’s gaze got stuck in the Turkish province. He did not die on Dagobah. He did not dissolve into the radiance of the Force. He descended to Earth, settled among the caves of Cappadocia, and found a strange peace there. People mummified him the same way they did children and beloved animals. Thus, the Jedi ended up in the Aksaray Museum, within arm’s reach of tourists looking for a souvenir mug with a picture of a pigeon.
And in this intertwining arises the version of the nonexistent: that Master Yoda was not a fictional character of a cosmic saga, but a real alien, who died in Anatolia and left behind a trail of the impossible.
Worlds That Were
In that galaxy, Yoda was an architect. Not of buildings, but of an order. The Jedi Order was built not on stone, but on discipline, meditation, and a strange mixture of compassion and martial rigor. Yoda was small, but carried within him millennia of wisdom.
He taught young Padawans the art of the Force. He fought in the Clone Wars, when the galaxy turned into a giant bonfire. He saw the Republic rot from within, senators trading the future, Sith rising from the shadows.
And still, despite his power, Yoda lost. His order crumbled into dust, and he himself went into exile — to the swamps of Dagobah, where time flows differently, where even the stars sound different. But there is another version: Yoda didn’t just run away. He found a loophole — not in space, but in dimension. From another cosmos, Master Yoda stepped into ours.
Underground Cities and Fairy Chimneys
Cappadocia took him in. Volcanic dust and soft tuff stone became a shelter better than any jungle. Yoda settled in underground cities carved by people over centuries — where tunnels stretch deeper than memory itself.
He made friends among the locals. Children loved his strange ears and laughter, elders listened to his advice, and craftsmen traded him bread for wisdom. He had a cat, later mummified too — a small companion of the Jedi, a symbol of domestic warmth in the stone emptiness.
Yoda gathered olives in a small basket, ate pigeons brought from the dovecotes of Uchisar. He sat in evening courtyards, listened to women pounding wheat, and spoke of how the Force does not vanish even when the gods are gone.
When Arabs came with swords and cries, Yoda hid with the peasants underground. In narrow burrows he was again a teacher — showing how to control breath, how not to give in to fear, how to use the darkness of tunnels as an ally.
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