TO: Leni&Petr

Gonna write You in max. 2 days. Promiz. Thanks for email and sms.
Love You both.
Dobrou noc!
Eli

WHAT is REALITY?

Photo: NL- 18.X.2008, h.: 19.20

To my Women/ Alle mie Donne

She's always a woman to me- Billy Joel

She can kill with a smile

She can wound with her eyes

She can ruin your faith with her casual lies

And she only reveals what she wants you to see

She hides like a child,

But she's always a woman to me

She can lead you to love

She can take you or leave you

She can ask for the truth

But she'll never believe

And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free

Yeah, she steals like a thief

But she's always a woman to me

CHORUS: Oh--she takes care of herself

She can wait if she wants

She's ahead of her time

Oh--and she never gives out

And she never gives in

She just changes her mind

And she'll promise you more

Than the Garden of Eden

Then she'll carelessly cut you

And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best

And the worst you can be

Blame it all on yourself

Cause she's always a woman to me

--Mhmm--

CHORUS:Oh--she takes care of herself

She can wait if she wants

She's ahead of her time

Oh--and she never gives out

And she never gives in

She just changes her mind

She is frequently kind

And she's suddenly cruel

She can do as she pleases

She's nobody's fool

And she can't be convicted

She's earned her degree

And the most she will do

Is throw shadows at you

But she's always a woman to me

Vi voglio bene.

Love You

Smelling my memories

I was cycling back home this afternoon, under the usual Dutch rain, covered all over with my red poncho and all in a while I smelt it... as if I were there, in that old house, something like three years ago. i smelt the smoky smell of the oven, which left still some traces on my poncho. That smoky night with my great cousin, that is somehow a miracle we are alive. Lost in the mountains, me, her under the milky way... besides not knowing that well how the oven was working. And we slept with all the windows opened, up on the mountain with a crazily cold temperature. But the smoke is still there. I don't know how many times my mum and I washed it and how many other times I wore it. It's there and it's there to let me remember.
As when I'm somewhere and I start to think about a particular smell already smelt in Istanbul, or somewhere else, or the smell of the moulded grass, which always reminds me about my home and my dad.
And I smiled... I ask myself if it is fine to think about that, and to associate smells with places, people I met and remember... for sure it is scientifically prooved, but I want to give it a more emotional shape.
The problem comes later, when the smell disappears and you start thinking, maybe too much as somebody suggested me once, about BEFORE.
All I want to learn is to find new smells, but inevitably they'll be old memories soon or later as well.
What counts now, it's to go on.
For me.
I'm fine... you know that sometimes I need to express what it's turning constantly in my mind.
Good night then!
Buona notte!
Eli

UTRECHT, 12.X.2008: Imane&Elisa

Anlatamıyorum

Ağlasam sesimi duyar mısınız,

Mısralarımda;

Dokunabilir misiniz,

Gözyaşlarıma, ellerinizle?

Bilmezdim şarkıların bu kadar güzel,

Kelimelerinse kifayetsiz olduğunu

Bu derde düşmeden önce.

Bir yer var, biliyorum;

Her şeyi söylemek mümkün;

Epeyce yaklaşmışım, duyuyorum;

Anlatamıyorum.

Orhan Veli K.

Duygucan, senin için... Venedik'te misin?!?

Let it go

Gölgem

Bıktım usandım sürüklemekten onu,

Senelerdir, ayaklarımın ucunda;

Bu dünyada biraz da yaşayalım,

O tek başına,

Ben tek başıma.

Orhan Veli Kanık

My shadow

I'm sick and tired of dragging it along
On the tip of my foot year in year out
In this world we ought to live for a while
My shadow all by itself
And I all by myself

(Translation by Talat Sait Halman)

In order to start again from the beginning, try looking at tomorrow, not yesterday!

Confusion- 01.X.2008, 11 P.M.

Photo:Ischia, Naples, July 2007

Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.

Letters to a Young Poet- Rainer Maria Rilke

Nothing truer than this nowadays.
A hug to everybody.