This is Bozcaada, filled with millions of memories. Watching it from far away makes you remember things even if you never been there. It may become your beacon on the never-ending ocean of reality even if you may never reach the shore.
You may feel the loneliness of your journey and miss home. Still that doesn’t change it, you are there and witnessing it.
Or even the sunset may have already begun and there is nothing you can do to make it stop. It makes you stand there, ignore all of the meaningless fuss of the world and witness the beauty.
The poet was looking at her face, when she suddenly said, “What good is a poem for, if the lines are not the distilled moments of life ?”. “If the poem is not a feeling beyond understanding ?”, “Would you like me or even touch my face with your fingers, if I am not made by you and if you are nothing but a poem ?”, “What good is a poem, if I cannot find the poet and fell in love ?” she asked.
The poet looking in her eyes said, “What good is a line that doesn’t tell something about you ?”. “What good is a line without true life in it, without all the misery and loneliness ?”. “Who would you be, if I would not be the poet ? Would you still be here and argue with me ? Or even would still be ? Without me?” asked the poet with all the pride on earth.
The girl smiled, and the whole world smiled with her. She didn’t know the answer but she was sure that it was there. Beyond all the mist the poet draw on the sea, she was sure that there is an answer. Then she touched the face of the poet and said “I don’t know, but who are you if you do not make me, and fall in love with me?”
The poet was speechless for a moment and the storm was gathering its power. Everyone can feel it when the nature has something to say. The poet knew the girl. Maybe she was all the poet knew at that moment. The poet was fearful and lost in the gathering storm.
The poet remembered the city they were in. The city was welcoming to both. When their love was growing and the sky was peaceful. The poet remembered a long lost friend.
The girl was there when they were looking out of the window. They shared the world and maybe this is their world which we are just guests. She thought how wonderful it could be and how awful it is now. Like two flowers on the window, they have to see eachother but never get together. Always missing and be less… Never complete…
Then with no words uttered, the time moved and it didn’t move so quickly as they wished it would. What good is a poem with no happy ending asked the girl. And what are the poets if not liars we wishe to believe. The poet remained silent, but the answer was there all the time waiting to be found. And then the circles were drawn… Yet maybe another time…
And that you feel lonely in a city with millions of people doesn’t make any sense.
And the day may go dark in the end and that too can make you sad. But still it is a beautiful day and it is your beautiful day.
And when the sun sets down:
Or fun to be had… You can never tell what will happen when you turn around the corner.
Like this guy I met in Berlin. The streets gets empty quickly in Berlin at night. You are left with buildings, and empty roads to walk with, but around the corner this guy stands just like this, without ever making an effort and you smile, miles away from home and walk past.
Ofcourse what is a beautiful day without a flower ? So here it is for your beautiful day… Smile…
I was on a roof waiting for my pizza when I took this picture. I envy the owner, because the view was so tale-like. I can almost see the movie starting with a beautiful girls just looking out of that window and dreaming, or the movie about a class-strugle with a boy just beside this window, or a psychopath fighting his demons. Whatever the story was, I was dreaming with open windows.
Some people on the street. I was going home when I took the picture. It reminds me: Isn’t it true that we cannot communicate with the ones we love most. It may be fear to be seen as what we really are, or something else, but whatever the reasons the conclusion is weird. Then again, what are we without communicating with the ones we love, just prisoners in our big grey prisons. We live funny lives…
The idea of music flowing through your body is soothing. This girl whom I don’t know was there to dance and walking twoards the light. I watched her dance, which she was good at. And I understand that some feel when they dance that idea and then that idea becomes reality and music becomes something more when it moves you.
I was listening to my guitar teacher’s (Murat Celik) first album. The first two lines were:
The night covers me up
My voice grows/multiplies and becomes the water
The lyrics took me by surprise, and created a train of thoughts which resulted in me finding out that the most fragile things are the ones that have the power to change anything and we are most powerless when we think we are powerful. Then there was this picture of a dandelion looking back at me.
Not being able to see him for years, I hope he is allright, he is still teaching me and I am thankful…
From personal experience I know that we human beings are not that smart. What we are the result of our doing. So it is no wonder, that in the end our suffering comes from our illusions we called “our ideas”. Sooner or later we will see ourselves in the traps we set and we carry our wounds always with us.
This is my friend the “cat”, as Audrey Hepburn very gracefully put it in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. She lives on the streets near where I work and I like to bring her food. Before she eats, she kindly thanks me for it and does not starts to eat right away. I am happy to be her friend and see too many things in her eyes and her grace.
Happy Mother’s day for everyone. For me it is a day to remember. And I remember a lot. Lots of details but visualization is not the point. The point is, altough you are not around me anymore, I still learn from you. That is almost a daily routine. I find you in some of my wisest moments. I know I am not wise, not even close and in those moments I feel strange. Then I know it is you I hear in that moment. That reminds me that I do not just carry some photographic memories about you but I also carry you, my mother and my greatest friend whereever I am and that gives me comfort. You have always been and will be, the light that keeps reminding that there is always a light shining through the clouds from heavens.
After a long road, it is one of the best feelings to find your way back. The rain you come accross your journey, the cold, th night, they all become a part of the tale, you get to share with the ones you love. You know, even you haven’t arrived yet that it is resting time now before the next journey. You remember the good parts and smile. Then you remember the bad parts and become grateful that you are back home. So, it is important to find your way back home…
Last week I was on the road which led me near you. You didn’t know that ofcourse but still I wondered if you heard me like a fading signal in the distance. And wondered what you were doing then or if you are happy at all. I wished then the road took me away with a little smile on my face.
Living in a city full of dreams, you know that beyond all that roads and above all that dreams there is something you still can feel but can’t touch. It may be a debt which will be paid in time, but still you wonder. It is like seeing a city in distance and wondering about it or seeing a storm coming in at full speed. The idea passes you and you live your life just as the same, but that doesn’t mean it is not the truth.
So we arrive the island of our dreams. But than again, the grass isn’t greener on this side… The grass isn’t even green on this side, the storm we brag about overcoming was not about us at all, it sweeps the island and leaves it just barren and while the storm leaves it takes the road with it. So we end our traveling on our island, alone and without any understanding of the real question. Now we look towards the open sea and try to imagine the main land and the ever-green shore…
Then we take the road. The road then becomes the journey. The journey then will define us and will mature us. It is the question that keeps us going and the reward we expect. When the road ends we take the stormy seas.
We never ask wheter our ship can stand the gathering storm or wheter the storm is a gentle sign. We push forward without caring. The journey goes forward.
When we arrive the first thing we do is look back and brag about our accomplishments. It is not a easy thing to overcome the gathering storms and other perils. So ends our journey and we left the main land for our island…
We move constantly in our lives. We always work hard for something, we look for someone to love, for a place to live, for a job etc. It is the time that passes we call life. And once in a great while we come to a green shore. With the wind in our face so fresh and the sound of the waves, there is only one question remaining. Is the grass greener on the other side. So we travel towards the island in the middle of the sea while leaving everything behind… So the storm gathers…
Then the time passes more violently like a storm, playing with you in its palm of waves. In that storm there are moments of clarity when your stream of consciousness just breaks and you feel emptied. The world becomes old and gray. It keeps following the billion years old orbit and ignores you. Then you see yourself just flowing through…
It is a burning feeling missing someone (or something). First you feel that it burns you within and turns you into ash. In that ash you see a road and a home. Ideas ride down that road and as the time passes you become an observer who just stands there and watches the past as a sun sets down a road in distance.
The city flows without you understanding it. It is a sea of emotions, ideas, touches your soul and changing you forever. With its guardians all over, you are just an another fish, lost in the deep. Maybe you don’t know but the sea knows and it embraces you, for you are a part of it and it never judges…
Waiting there while I was photographing, this old lady in red came out of nowhere and started chating with my friend about many things and old times. She seemed lonely with great stories to tell. We never figured about her loneliness and what she was going to do, in the end she left my friend with “so don’t let me keep you” and gone her way. One can see loneliness take many shapes, including human form. I hope she is ok…