It was one of the clearest memories of my childhood. We came to Istanbul to visit our relatives. First stop was my aunt and, one day, she and I made a long journey through the city from her one-roomed flat to a three-roomed one. This was the first time that I became acquainted with the intimate areas of the middle class. As my aunt was cleaning the house, I touched the objects I had never seen before; I was astonished. We were alone; I felt that I was so close to everything, I could even lie on the bed, but there was an imaginary wall which prevented me from doing this. It represented a distance I knew intuitively from my indigent life. Afterwards, when I started working, conversations of my colleagues about their problems with their cleaning ladies reminded me of this feeling again. They hired a cleaning lady because they saw this as a symbol of the class that they wish to belong and these long conversations were the highlights of this mentality. So, where was I? First, I made sentences from its cultural, political, ethical points of view. After all of these, what I reached deep down was shame. I was not ashamed of these women of my family; I was ashamed of the feeling of shame.