A Note on Literature, Memory, and Ownership for February 14
February 14 is often associated with reunions, completed stories, and clearly defined relationships. Yet many of the bonds that have left a lasting mark on literary history exist precisely outside these definitions. This Valentine’s Day, we wanted to connect you not with “happy endings,” but with relationships that were lived, documented, and remembered; yet never fully claimed as possessions. Because some stories manage to remain enduring in memory, even when they never reach fulfillment.
Love is usually described through a single framework: two people, clear roles, a defined relationship. Who belongs to whom, what the relationship is called, where it is headed, everything seems to have an answer. However, when we look at the history of literature and thought, we see that it is often the relationships that resist such clarity that leave the deepest traces. Some bonds were lived, recorded, and sustained in their impact, yet they never sought to be owned.
One of the most striking figures in European intellectual circles at the end of the 19th century was Lou Andreas-Salomé. A writer, thinker, and an intellectual deeply engaged with psychoanalysis, Salomé is historically compelling not only because of what she wrote, but because of the relationships she formed. Figures such as Friedrich Nietzsche, Rainer Maria Rilke, and Sigmund Freud occupied significant places in her life.
Nietzsche proposed marriage to Salomé and was rejected. She later entered into an intense and passionate relationship with Rilke; in his letters, Rilke frequently described Salomé as the person who guided him toward writing. With Freud, on the other hand, she formed a non-romantic yet deeply intellectual bond; they worked together within psychoanalytic circles and maintained a close exchange of ideas. None of these relationships were rumors or retrospective interpretations. They were documented through letters, diaries, and biographies. What stands out, however, is that none of these bonds were built on ownership, marriage, or any lasting institutional structure.
Salomé consciously separated marriage from romantic attachment. She did have one formal marriage in her life, but it was neither romantic nor sexual in nature. For her, forming a bond was only possible when individual freedom was preserved. For this reason, Salomé’s story is often framed around the idea of “non-belonging,” though what truly defined her relationships was not a rejection of connection, but the absence of a central authority governing it.
A similar situation emerged years later in Turkey, within a very different cultural and historical context. In 1950s Ankara, within the circles surrounding the Faculty of Political Science (Mülkiye), Muazzez Akkaya was an academic who never sought to enter literary history directly. She built her life not around writing or poetry, but around her own profession. Nevertheless, her path crossed with two major poets of the time.
Sezai Karakoç developed a deep yet one-sided love for Muazzez Akkaya. This love was never lived out; it was never spoken aloud, reciprocated, or translated into everyday life. Despite this, it was transformed into poetry. “Mona Rosa” entered literary history as the record of this unfulfilled bond.
He describes his one-sided, platonic love in his poem like this:
“My love doesn’t fit every melody.”
During the same period, Muazzez Akkaya was involved in a real, mutual, and lived relationship with Cemal Süreya. This relationship was more open, more physical, and more grounded in everyday reality. Süreya did not conceal this bond and later spoke about it openly.
Muazzez Akkaya’s life was not limited to these relationships. Years later, she married and built her own life with someone outside literary circles. More importantly, in interviews she gave in later years, she consciously placed distance between herself and these stories. Her statement, “I did not want to be anyone’s poem,” made her position unmistakably clear. For Akkaya, the issue was not whether love had been lived or not, but who was telling the story and to whom that story belonged.
Although the stories of Lou Salomé and Muazzez Akkaya unfolded in different periods and cultural contexts, they converge at a common point. Both formed meaningful bonds, left lasting impressions, and inspired the work of others. Yet in neither case was there a desire to transfer ownership of the story itself. There was connection, there was interaction, and there was even permanence but there was no possession.
Today, reading and publishing in the digital world face a similar question. For many years, stories, books, and texts were entrusted to centralized platforms. What we read, what we can access, and what is allowed to endure has largely been determined by these structures. Now, much like the literary relationships discussed here, the possibility of more direct and transparent connections is once again being questioned.
This question also lies at the core of NFB’s vision. NFB argues that the relationship between readers, authors, and publishers does not have to be bound to a single central authority. It is built around the idea that digital books can be more than temporary points of access that they can exist as recorded entities, forming a direct relationship with the reader. This perspective invites us to see literature not merely as content to be consumed, but as a relationship with ownership, history, and a future.
That is why, this February 14, we wanted to return to these stories unfulfilled yet enduring. Some bonds are never completed, but when they are properly recorded, they do not disappear. NFB aims to open a new space within the literary world where this sense of permanence and direct connection becomes possible.
Because some stories do not want to belong.
But they do not want to be lost either.
NFB (Non-Fungible Book) is a reading and publishing platform built on the idea that digital books can exist not merely as temporary access points, but as permanent and verifiable entities. Using blockchain infrastructure, NFB aims to reconfigure the relationship between readers, authors, and publishers without relying on a single central authority. On NFB, books are recorded independently of the platform itself; their ownership, history, and context remain transparent. This approach treats literature not simply as content to be consumed, but as a direct relationship one that leaves a trace over time.
