the door's ajar and there lies a life of someone; touchable, smellable, timeless.../ trees and rain that's about to start. trains heading to the windy seaside towns.


winds, walks, talks, strolling alone, hills near the cities.. ve biribirine acilan avlular.

good sleep

after going to bed relatively early, woke up around 8 before the time i set my alarm clock. with dreams none particularly happy but all soothing, i woke up in a familiar morning, feeling safe like i used to feel as a kid waking up to a school day, to a supposedly unchanging world.

dock dock! harbour.. yazi (répéte) (or happy therapy dog with a Subtitle: 'okaeri')

once you ve got derailed, you start to spin around yourself irregularly, there is no control, you spin and spin; depending on how fast you were going when you went off the eclipse, you keep spinning away. chances of getting back to your eclipse is small if you drift too far.


depression and 'madness' are like two different floors of a building, you can get yourself killed jumping from either of them. and madness is more like the roof. when you are there, you are no more inside the building.


you feel it. spinning with an increasing speed, you feel the parts are no more stable; all vibrating. then you see the distance between them opening up, so you slow yourself down. and even after you stop, you move with silent steps, so slowly, trying not to drop any parts which are now less connected to each other than ever. searching for familiar things, hopelessly waiting, looking for some shelter to go in, you realize you have swum too far. and too tired to go back, you then know you gotta build up your own shelter from scratch in this middle of nothingness, you gotta start all over again if you want to continue from here. or you can walk back and search for another way which always takes more time (and which you mostly and will most likely do).

the experienced ones: they call them dervishes, ermisler, gurus,.. look-up:bkz: 'dersu uzala'

note1: 'madness' for a second, realized how different it is from depression, how apart it is, how freshingly ''new'' (not re-freshing, but especially 'freshing').
note2: only the ones who can return and only when they return, can write about it. -obvious truth which needs repeating- ((and of course all who havent been there can))

summer drummer

yeni ve gunesli bir sehir -cleveland- ; 2004 yazi, kasima kadar uzayan: 'memory lane' :
2005 yazi, yeni ve gunesli bir sehir: a. singing 'brown eyed girl' : eye of the summer(s).
the odd summer suite..

blue rondo: gece

gece muzigi: three to get ready four to go - dave brubeck

notre musique ; inland empire

-,-;

bildigim kurtulus metodlarinin islemedigi yerden dugumler kendigilinden cozulup eski yerime dondum. yeniden umutluyum. and i now more clearly see that hope is made of daily, common things; (worries about getting a job, stress of approaching exams, smiles of classmates, new people, dad's call, good news from (about) friends)

subthinking; maybe my obsessions (obsessive worries) are like my tonsils, problematic but protective.

eventhough i keep on being selfish, the light over the good has returned.

'this state, this lazy summer afternoon in the shade, -sweetness- taste of a nap surrounded by the good, familiar and living.'

that everlasting state as a balcony for life.

(everything's transparent for a while, nothing's blocking the other's light.)