Some trees cry even in the spring time. This is a fragile yet beautiful carpet. I feel like dancing.
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Ghost of a tree and me. In my word book there is no future tense. I do not want to be a ghost. I would like to remain as a tree.
A sad olive tree in a cold environment. Olive trees feel home to me. Izmir is surrounded by olive trees. The pastel green is a delicate color. Its leaves are fragile but also stubborn to resist most difficult weather conditions. It was my moms favorite. We had two ancient olive trees in our country house. My father planted another three. Both my father and mother rest in peace, the trees are there resisting all the suffering… That’s my home. Today in Delft, the Netherlands I have passed this olive tree standing next to a coffe shop. They have wrapped it for the winter.
Snow keeps following me.
Your love,
illuminate my Heart, my Darling
This is the road taken.
Horizontal or vertical, this is the question.
Werra IV
Fujichrome 100
Expired
Process by Tecno Photo
Self scan with Epson V500
September 2012 Brussels
Spring days in Brussels…
You can colour your life.
Death is everywhere. Our cat not aware of it in the country side.
Today was a day of nostalgia, I have traveled from Izmir to Urla with public transport to pick up my fathers car from our country-side house. Driving from the regional road along the seaside was pleasant. Intermodality also worked fine for me, hopping from metro to bus then to another bus and finally to a taxi.
Here the pavements of Urla, some belong to trees, their ages. My feet felt never wisdom before…
