“The only, the best, the most prospective and the rosiest image of Ankara is in Anıtkabir. This is the only place where one can feel that the crowd inside is no longer a crowd of strangers. They are all your citizens, compatriots, and even brothers and sisters. The power, nourished from Turkey’s soil, coming from the past and expanding to tomorrows, is the only thing that gives hope to those eyes. And “the city remembers,” as Colson Whitehead would say in The Colossus of New York (2003), Atatürk. Not the stone and concrete walls, but his sacred name in our hearts is the thing that vaccinates our veins with hope. This sanctuary of Turkish spirit is almost like a candle in the middle of darkness.”