diary, life, soul


And master Mehmut, the well-digger, in Orhan Pamuk’s The Red Haired Woman, was inside the well because of an accident that made him stay there inside for a few hours until someone rescued him; Mr. Okada in Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-up Bird Chronicle went inside the dry well to think, to think in peace and… Continue reading ON THE OTHER SiDE OF SMOKE

life, poetry, soul


And as we sat there looking at each other but never quite seeing, I asked what had been in my mind for centuries. I have always believed, and I have believed what I read, that questions are always more important than answers; so in this tête-a-tête I had an upper hand, I was stronger. It… Continue reading THE CONVERSATiONS

letter, life, soul


  Dear Blishé, And I can foresee future. I am telling you, I can foresee. I see myself and you, Blishé, holding hands and walking in the forest, deep and wild, full of sins and blessings. We walk together in that Garden of Eden. We create an Ultimate Love. There is no one looking down… Continue reading LETTER TO BLiSHÉ

Delirium, diary, soul


  And I watch as the last blue rectangle of the wall in front of me disappears. I have been here for a hundred years and I am going to stay here for another thousand. I am a prisoner. Unlike Kafka’s The Trial, I am not here for a crime I have not committed but… Continue reading THE PRiSONER

dream, imitation, life, soul


And there is a diary in the book shelf that belongs to Kashiv; Dreams, it is named in that hurried hand of his. And if you read, flipped through the pages you wouldn’t find any date nor would you know one dream from the other, it would go on like one continuous dream. Just like… Continue reading i KILLED ME

life, soul


It was dark. The bulbs hung tirelessly from the ceiling, their presence today was felt more than any other day. It was on days and nights like this that they actually existed. Today their existence had a meaning. Today they were dead. Kashiv was perched on the plastic chair he so rarely used to sit.… Continue reading ​THE MEANiNG

life, love, poetry, soul


-The following is an extract taken directly from the journals of Kashiv and the words appear here as they were there. The page has no date and time nor can we tell for certain where or which time of the day it was written- And I have just started to have visions and I don't know… Continue reading REALiZATION

identity, life, soul


  And, thus, under the ceiling of his room, with eyes open wide as the ocean, shining brighter than the sun, lay Kashiv. "This, then, is where people come to live; I'd have thought it more of a place to die.", the first lines of Rilke's , The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, unsettled Kashiv.… Continue reading THE BEGiNNiNG

identity, life, soul


      And, the vision blurred, Kashiv, the intruder, waited for the cloud of mischievousness to pass off the simpleton's face. The hour was getting late and he had no intention to stay there with those two maniacs. But, the question had already put a spell on him and the answer would, he anticipated, release him… Continue reading iDENTITY

introduction, life, soul


And, across the horizon into the wild forest sat two, perched on the stone like birds on a branch, beings, mortal or not, unknown and uncertain. The taller and the stupid of the two talked and the shorter with graying hair and the one who seemed wise listened, listened in rapt attention, and whenever he… Continue reading iNTRODUCTION