KUMANDA PANELI

Aslinda sayfaya geri donusun nedeni yeni bir sayfacik hazirlamakti blog sayfalarinda ozel amaclarla kullanilmak uzere..
fekat, acar acmaz sayfami bir de ne goreyim :)

kocaman harfler ve cirkin bir yesille yazilmis

KUMANDA PANELI

bundan guzel firma ismi olur mu yahu. hemen simcik el koyucam.. haydin bakem :)

goooood morning !

I have not been here for quite a long time.
Long time no talk!

I am welcomed back home during the time passed.
in Istanbul, I am!

Home, home, sweet and tiring and caotic and agressive home!!!!
it is good to be around anyway :

I moved in on last Sunday to my cuty flat. roof floor! sunny, full of flowers, colorfull and lovely!
welcome if you wanna pop up!

bless,
pinar

yine/again

i am waiting/home/I can't do..

Entellektüel bakan ya da bakmaya çalışan bacak aram, aslında hangi yönünün ağır bastığını bilmemenin avanaklığında dolanıyor bu günlerde. Boğazımda bir balgam, ellerim akan kalem mürekkebinin karası bekliyorum. Yutkundukça canım acıyor. Bekliyorum. Boynum kütürdüyor, sabit bir noktaya kitlenen bakışlarımın hapishanesi başımı sağdaki kedi biblosuna bakmak için çevirdiğimde. Nefesim, birinin karbondioksiti kokuyor. İlgisizliğimin boyası akmış saçlarıyla, koltukaltlarım bir adamın teriyle dolu. Elimde kalem, parmağımda ametist yüzüğüm bekliyorum. Negatif enerji adı verilen pessimist auramı içine çeksin diye takıyorum yüzüğü; yalanlarken benliğimi. Su olasım geliyor. Akıyorum içime. Sosis parmaklarımdan başlıyorum kendimi yemeğe. Ruhumu kemirgenler bastı. Elimde bir tek beden var. Ben de onu kemiriyorum. Kedi gibi yalıyorum bacaklarımı. Geçmiyor önceki gecenin kiri. Boyuyorum yüzümü; duruyor kırışıklıklar sapasağlam. Nasıl her detayı anlatmamdan sıkılıyorsa çevrem, ben de kendine has paranoyak yüzeyselliğinden boğuluyorum çevremin. Çizemediğim perspektiflerin kaçış noktasıyım şu an. Geceleri bakmaya dahi korktuğum öcülü dolapların içine girmek bile varlığımı harekete geçiremiyor. Korku bile yersiz. Korku bile bekleme odasında. Korku bile çiş gibi yitip gidiyor kanalizasyona. Bekliyorum. Ev. Yapamam.

sorry for english speakers!!

telepopmusik/close/////gorgeous!!!

I don’t put a smile upon your face no more
I can’t make your heart shine like it did before
You don’t listen to my stories anymore
You can’t comfort me the way you did before

Was I too loud, was I too bad
Was I too open
Was I too high, was I too fast
Was I too close

I don’t feel your lips like the first kiss
I’d rather run away than sit to face the truth

Was I too proud, was I too hopeful
Was I too needing
Was I too crazy, was I too long
Was I too giving

No matter how far, no matter how long
I will be there

virginia

mita, in oslo
ilse, in amsterdam

.......................................mita, in oslo
ilse, in amsterdam..............................

i, mean, ..

nobody believes in magic any more... everything is too rational and proportions are talking. nobody is ready for diving into the feelings or taking care of moments any more.
yesterday, i was completely half. i lost my music with whom i would like to share everything i have. i was trying to be kind to it and gentle more than i can. however, it just skipped my frequency to listen the one it got used to.
long live the rest, in my hands;
i thought;
i wished;
i guessed.

his, mine..

always

sth in between...

Explain Malmö to Miss Universe..

Well!! But who is she? Why is she the Universe? What is special with her? Does she prefer an explanation of Malmö rather than nothing? Does she like explanations; somewhere, somehow? She is a creative person with her wild feminist attacks to life and also a really talented and exciting woman. Perhaps a real one. How could I explain to her the place where she lives; as a well-known and loud person, she does. Probably a blanc photo paper could be enough to let her use her own way and imagination?? Nooo!! She has to listen this time.To my words! Her personality should be my inspiration fairy. Let’s do it then.

If you were a real woman or feminist or some artificial creature in the world, what would be your way to express your inner part into a city? Melancholy, fear, height, loneliness, courage, nature, feeth, red, hands,veins, green, nailpolish, readily handmade feeling, skin, self-confidence, passion, your room....etc. As Virginia said, the room of a real woman can be decorated and living just like her; and her windows can be the doors which are completely open to life and harsh reality.

I always loved her; Virginia is my purple.

Thus, I opened my windows to the city in the very early morning; let my smell fly in the air; used my toe-ringed footh as my primitiveness and anger to life by trying to be able to walk,develop and discover alone while the ring was blinking with its metal and cold surface during the deal with the sun; put my footh in front of the window like walking through the sky on barefooth; felt the wind underneath my skin; was totally open to the sun; squeezed the grass and the nature and the building and the life and the reality and the consciousness and the ordinariness and the construction under my soul; closed my eyes; felt the confident pressure somewhere inside and took the picture.

I am still awake, cold and standing on my own bottom; like she does, somewhere, somehow....