.μέσα από το παράθυρο.

Ο χρόνος του έρωτα είναι η αιωνιότητα. Σαν αυτό το ξημέρωμα. Χάραζε αργά σαν να ήθελαν τα σώματα να ζήσουν τα όνειρα λίγη αιωνιότητα ακόμα. Σαν φιγούρα γδύθηκε τη θέρμη των χεριών του και σηκώθηκε αφήνοντας το βράδυ πίσω μαζί με το χάραμα που πλησίαζε. Κοίταξε με μισάνοιχτα τα μάτια την πόλη μπροστά τους, φωτάκια…

in the womb

“I was conscious in my mother’s womb. Feeling the movements in her body. Aware of my own helpless state. This body bundle of bones is not I. Occasionaly, the darkness of the womb would be dispelled and light would visit me. On one side, I wanted to express myself as a human being, yet, on…

.the sunset is an temporary end.

I have this quality, or this malfunction in self preservation… When I read a book, I live in it. Same as when I listen to the lyrics of a song… I am one of the characters, I feel their pain, I feel their love. One of the books that made me reflect my own weakness…

.Heart.

We played this game based on which you write down your most favourite words. Ten of them actually, and then you write about each one of them, you justify your choice. I love words as much as I love photographs, so I chose to attach a photo to each of my little stories of my…

.περί αναπνοής.

Ξεκινάμε τη ζωή μας με μια αναπνοή και αποδεσμευόμαστε από τη ζωή με μια τελευταία αναπνοή. Πρίν βουτήξουμε στα βαθειά, παίρνουμε μια μεγάλη αναπνοή, γεμίζουμε το σώμα μας με τον αέρα που περνά από τα ρουθούνια και το στόμα μας και κρατά τη καρδιά μας ζωντανή όσο διαρκεί η βουτιά. Μέχρι να ξαναβγούμε στην επιφάνεια…

.evren’s road to home.

Irvin Yalom said that “this is how wrong choices are directed: we convince ourselves that there was no other way”. The road less taken, the road never taken before and the road we took in the first place to avoid, or leave something behind, or forget, or perhaps to forgive ourselves. On his way home,…

.wordless poem.

Staying still is part of the healing process, but movement, for the body as also in life, is medicine. We have to keep on going. And when we can’t find the strength, we must search for it in what heals us. “The finding/ losing, forgetting/remembering, leaving/returning never stops.” What does making pictures mean to you?…

.silences.

Truth for anyone is a very complex thing. For a writer, what you leave out says as much as those things you include. What lies beyond the margin of the text? The photographer frames the shot; writers frame their world. When we tell a story, we exercise control, but in such a way as to…

.letting go.

My good friend Berkan once said “Oh, the pain we are willing to feel in order not to separate.” And he was right. Back then, we were discussing about an other friend of ours who could not decide whether she could move on with her life on her own or simply follow the path of…

.mother.

As I looked at her sleeping in her own bed this time, next to our loyal little yorkie, I remembered one of the books I literally read in one day and brought tears in eyes. “When I am alone in my apartment these days, not often, but sometimes, I will say softly out loud, “Mommy!”…

.πές μου ενα παραμύθι να το ζήσω.

Μπήκα στο τελευταίο βαγόνι του τρένου και στάθηκα κόντρα στην πόρτα με το χαμηλωμένο παράθυρο. Έκλεισα τα μάτια καθώς το τρένο ξεκίνησε πάλι και ένιωσα το λυτρωτικό αεράκι που διασχίζει τα βαγόνια. Αφέθηκα μέσα σε μια βαθειά αναπνοή. Περίμενα μέρες αυτή τη στιγμή, χωρύς να γνωρίζω πότε θα έρθει. Άφησα σκέψεις να πλάσουν την ιστορία μου, αυτή…

.the morning after.

07.10. On a blue chair. Under a thick white sheet. I was half awake half asleep when the nurse came in for the morning round. Her voice – always a voice awakes a feeling in me – sounded so sweet that I smiled at her before I had even opened my eyes. Good morning. I…

.skin.

I have been trying so hard to stop taking photos being motivated by what I feel, and focus on what I see. It did not take me long to realise I am a person of this quality, the quality and strength to embrace every feeling, no matter how negative it might be, and let it…

sleepless in London, II

19th June 2016 03.57 am Have you ever had a dream that felt like your souls met somewhere out there and spoke to each other? shadows of bodies in black and white putting their long, soul made hands around each other in fluid shape of hug, as if two different liquid elements come together |effortlessly…

I am a soul gone to seed

I lit the candles and let the taste of the first sip of yet another cheap Côtes du Rhône melt with a deep inhale of strong cigarette in my head as I watched the rain fall on my windows. I undressed and got under warm water. Human body is a mean of creation, gives birth…