from: mine
title: a mirror with no name
form: text; electronic text file

This is a letter, it can be exhibited, but can it achieve to be a mirror... And if it is a mirror, how accurate can it reflect, or which mirror in the world can reflect an image in the ‘most accurate’ way... perhaps the mirror I shall send to you must concern a single reminiscence of you, the reminiscence of you remaining in my mind in the strongest manner...

Is it such a childish curiosity, the question of ‘what has become of me the most in who’ that leads you to want your mirrors?

I know these are questions that should not be asked to you, but they are questions coming from an origin which is you...And their answer lies inside you that you hide from your mirrors...

Aside from the feelings arisen in me by this game which I found myself in the middle of, which I declared I would never join –not because of my laziness!–, while I was thinking how would I overcome the worry of being liked by the creator of the game and by the spectators of the game, at the point where I voluntarily joined the game by permitting this letter to be exhibited;.

Dear (at least this part must remain apparent on the surface) hakan,

I stand at a point where your request which is very difficult, even impossible, to resist in a way has not reached me yet, with the worry of the whereabouts of my hello coming from very different places...

The call that sends that hello is had apparently left our voices somewhere deep in our souls a long time ago and in a silent way. It was familiar and known, but we could recognize where it came from.

What came was such a feeling of closeness, and the yellow shade of that feeling was the first color reflecting in the mirror. –My yellow– I wish I could paint...

Your reflection changing every moment when you are going to bed and coming back from bed in the mirror hung beside you continues to change in every reflection falling on me...

Right here at this point you made me notice that I would never fix the flow and colors...The water was flowing, and I undersood I would always be a student of the mirror-makers. And glazing was a difficult craft...

I multiplied questions by getting to know you...Are there answers to them? Do you have them? Do I not know?...

Is there really a state of “passing to insensitiveness and calling the joy to your life” (thank you for teaching me that phrase, it solved my articulation problem and laziness)? Or is our most primitive instinct the easiest way to protect ourselves and to run away from the calls we don’t want? Is this phrase the door to your soul if your soul wants to run away when flesh calls another flesh?

Thank you for this phrase of mine uttering itself because you gave me the right to do so; “You had sent me some smiles while you called my flesh, I wish you could have left the same while your soul was running away”:

Did I felt so -yest –

As I said before, which mirror can reflect the ‘most accurate’ image...

Had the ‘pure peace’ reflecting to you from your mirror turned into a story, a picture, a statue, an image or an object, would it have remained in you and me...

Did you disperse and was I scared because it wasn’t turned...

The following phrase, being the first truth I perceived of you at an early stop of our journey whose destination was unclear, was one of the most accurate ones: “I love to watch, not to be watched”. Was love the single game which you could join as a player?.. Is it therefore there are only the games you create, but you never join, now?

You were the first person to knock at the doors opening inside me, were you playing the game of ringing other people’s door bells and then running away wpeh you were a child...

But you had managed to be the soothsayer of all the rooms inside me...I saw while I was trying to visualize the place you existed inside me that information coming from you was strong enough to push my stillness toward life and put it in motion... I had the mornings good dreams thanks to your ability to notice and recognize what I passed to you for you to touch, to ornament where you touched, to allow some wounds to cure in a slow and silent way...

I became your mirror in which your loneliness was reflected in a sad way, that loneliness of you whom I believe had wanted to stay however you talked about going away. I would want to make you joyous.

Aside from what I wrote above, perhaps I must see your “I want my mirrors” call as follows without giving a damn to the rest:

If you want, I am here, you won’t be able to see it unless you get closer, you must come and get it!

What if you wouldn’t like the image in your mirror, what if you hit it to shatter!..

I must run away immediately..