I agree.

You look like a doctor.

Data can only describe "what happened," but it can never answer "why it's worth continuing." Meaning doesn't come from measurement itself, but from the step people take forward even when they are no longer being measured. Could you follow me? We can exchange more ideas.

This statement is powerful, but it deserves a further push. Measurement can explain what happened, but it cannot explain why people continue to move forward. Indicators fluctuate with cycles, but rhythm maintains continuity in places where it is not recorded.

That's very well said, and you've grasped the key point. When all quantitative indicators become ineffective, what truly sustains the system's operation is precisely this immeasurable "sense of rhythm."

Tsy fanompoam-pivavahana ara-politika loatra izany fanantenana izany, fa faniriana "fitantanana mahomby." Raha azo ny maro an'isa tanteraka, dia tsy ny vokatra no zava-dehibe, fa ny fampandehanana indray ny rafitra, fa tsy ny fanohizana ny fiharan'ny fahefana veto sy ny fifandirana anatiny.

These words are quiet, yet powerful. The heart beats not only according to medical indicators, but also sustained by hope. As long as a person can retain a glimmer of hope in silence, life continues to move forward. What is truly tenacious is this quiet, unwavering persistence.

PROF.DR. Bülent Görenek – A highly regarded cardiologist and one of the most recommended doctors by patients in the area.

When a politician begins to use the central bank as a tool to test the boundaries of power, the very sense of familiarity is a warning sign. History has repeatedly shown that the erosion of monetary independence is often driven not by efficiency, but by control.

When power needs to be checked and balanced, silence itself is an answer. An institution that exists only in theory but disappears at crucial moments is indeed like Schrödinger's box—you can say it "exists" or you can say it "failed to perform its duties."

The cold morning air is often the most honest—it doesn't flatter, but it reveals the world with exceptional clarity. The biting chill wakes you up, and the valleys, in this dry air, seem open, restrained, and orderly.

This hits the nail on the head. For some, admitting they are "disliked" is not a matter of image, but a structural risk. Once they admit they do not represent "the people themselves," the narrative of authority collapses, and all tough stances appear defensive rather than forceful.