Elif opened the book at random. Her eyes fell upon a passage about a candle that does not lose its light by lighting another. She thought of her own life—the competition at her job, the fear of being "less" if others had "more." As she read further, the words of Mevlana (Rumi) began to act like a soothing balm:

She read about the reed flute, crying because it was torn from the reed-bed. She realized her own restlessness was simply a longing for her true home—the peace within her soul.

"This is not a book to be read," Selim whispered. "It is a sea to be felt. Each page is a drop, and each drop holds the entire ocean."

Another "drop" taught her that the world is a mirror. If she saw ugliness, it was because her own heart needed dusting. If she saw love, it was because she had finally allowed herself to be loved.

One rainy afternoon, a restless young traveler named Elif entered the shop. She was searching for "answers," though she wasn't quite sure what the questions were. Seeing her weary eyes, Selim didn't offer her a map or a history book. Instead, he placed the "Drops from the Sea" in her hands.