It all began when the snow fell. In the beautiful twilight, the blue hour. When there are no limitations to our imagination. And all is very still.
Letting her thoughts flow, she travelled through time and across visible and invisible borders. Destination: where humans live. Where they meet & laugh, shed tears and cry. Where they feast and fast, are born or die.
Somehow the flow of images in her head seemed to gather in Istanbul. Was it Orhan Pamuks book „Snow“, that became alive looking through the window? It may have been a starting point, yet the scenery was buzzing with colourful images of all seasons – of smells and tastes from the markets, symbols and patterns woven into carpets, the maze of old cobbled streets, the views across the water, to the neighbouring continent… men playing chess in the streets, carrying bread on a board over their heads, boys offering glasses of hot tea around the neighbourhood. Sounds – of salespeople, of seagulls, of fishermen waiting for their catch, the chatter of the women, men and children shopping for dinner. And the clapper of many feet, each pair walking at its very own pace, on its very own path, across the city, along the shore, from home to work, to friends, on errands, happy, tired, sad, angry… singing, swearing, dreaming, worrying, wishing, praying…
And the houses as the people, as the boats, as the cars and carriages of all kinds form a merry mix of old and young, conservative and avant-guard, fashionable, rich or poor. All breathing the same air, crossing the same water, walking on the same stones, being part of one beautiful, human, soulful picture of being alive.
