Pieces of Me

On a very angry morning at men,I condemned my self to the streets of Beyoglu as probably all women with the same condition did in its history.

It was quite early and deserted hours for Istiklal and seing the entry of the new Botero exhibition I was very curious about, I jumped in.

And found pieces of me..

and of even Thomas unexpectedly.

Isn't this what  a piece of art about, to find pieces of you in the pieces of art in a divine peace and to heal.

So I spent more than an hour healing, looking at more than 60 paintings and a documentary about my new, dear Fernando and taking pictures for this post.

The day ended in peace, in the streets with street music,

and a good turkish coffee watching the passangers 

 

A Good Plan, A Good Friend and A Good Dog

How it feels good to get this expected call this morning to go to the beach. Aviko, a good friend, made this great plan last week and -God knows- I loved him even more for this.

So we left, waving the busy city for a calm beach in Sile, the sieastas wrapped in towels, the reading, the beach sandwiches and the sea I was yearning for lately.

Whether it was the christianity that made Aviko and sister Annie, those good hearts that they are or their different history I always asked my self in time. Empathy, generousity, forgiving and being there for others on blue days.  

I woke up from a beautiful nap feeling a touch on my elbow leaning towards my beach bag. Annie said that it was that big street dog that roams around people on the beach, looking probably for my wrapped up remaining sandwich. I first thought it was scary. Aviko raising his head from his book said "it is a nice dog and and a very hungry dog as well". I remarked its bones on his chest.  It was a good looking dog with bright fur.It didn't take long to farewell my sandwich and going near him always with my recent ridiculous cynophobia.

Aviko was right not only it devoured half of my cheese sandwich, he jumped to the next offers of food from others.

It was happy, one could say from his tail. One, could also say that although he was done with all drinking and eating process, it chose to stay with people: it was tamed.

He then did something very remarkable: he sat by a young couple, the way my cats do in my living room like a sphinx. The unique way that told me it once knew home, trust and confort. My heart ached for it. A home was its dream. Sitting there with the piercing of the vaccination given to street animals by the municipality.

These thoughts belated me to jump to my camera, and my heart so vivid in my chest, warm, wet, sticky and from flesh and blood again.

The way the good dog was sitting illusioned and happy.

Oh Belonging..

Asking Someone's Daughter for a New Home

H, between all medical struggles with mum, had a merry decision. And very H'ly, she shared equally all the good times and rainbows as the heavy days we went through : I was insisted in being present in her "daughter-asking" ceremony!

As the very famous characther of my blog, she authorised her blurred photos to be here.

In where we live, the still living tradition involves the man that decides to get married with your daughter, to visit your home with his extended family to ask for  your daughter's hand... "by the order of God and by the agreement of the prophet" the famous cue says.

The ceremony involves : turkish coffee serving. By the bride-to-be. Cups of it.  Loads of it.

I enjoyed being a part of my rainbow girl's family on this very special occasion and taking pictures.

My H, she is uniquly able to be the beautiful rainbow even on the most grey days, with her colours, so unique and rich.

Deniz Was Here

The breakfast table was waiting for Deniz.

F and I, cousins, we were introduced to each other only 2 years ago, through our grand-aunt. So bizarre that we never met before although she studied at my brother's school and her sister at mine around same years.

Anyways, lately but still luckily we became friends and "nice surprise cousins" although she lives abroad.

Last year we organised a family gathering at my home, on F's arrival to Istanbul with her new-born Deniz.

And today they were back.

Chocolate and Deniz became very found to each other and D's tiny index finger was touching Chocolate's nostrils iside his ears to which it was ok with even happy of its new friend's existence.

I liked the particular way they were so gentle to each other.

Thomas though, dared to come downstairs only at his nap time, and I had the impression he was watching him over while he was sleeping defenseless.

We had a peaceful rainy day in together.

and were sure to miss this extraordinary kindness and friendship even at the moment of goodbyes.

The Cut, The Pain and The Words After

When the girls came to celebrate my new appartment last year, Rice was not yet able to speak. I love this picture I took then, at a hot late august day in 2008, Rice playing with my mess among the boxes.

Today I dressed a breakfast-picnic table in the garden for us.

It still surprises me to see my excitement when they arrive to my home. Rice was looking so sweet with her curly poney tails. She was as exciteted as I am. Until.. she cut her little finger with my special kids cuttlery's bunny knife.

Seing the blood she cried.. cried.. cried..

She was consolated that it will be ok and she will not feel the hurt soon.

She kept on crying saying it was not ok, not yet

It was a upset time for her. So she didn't allow me for a photo. But I can tell about her beutifully brushed hair, her cheeks innounded with tears, her eyes downwards and contracted by the plain truth of the pain, head backwards busy producing tears.

As she said " it is not ok, not yet", I saw some "me" in her.

So, I am sending a photo of her and her beloved little finger from the day of their first visit to my home.

I find there, this "some me" as well as the not so grown-up Rice then

And her words defying the consolation, her way to live the pain made me so close to her.