Can Emanet

The voice is like a night-time alarm: tired, but dramatic - as if the familiar world is about to burn down from a single spark. The words tear apart half-hearted hopes - ‘the world is burning,’ ‘burn the ships’ and ‘drown in bottles’ sound not like a complaint, but like a cunning decision made with a glass in hand. Here, reproach and resignation are mixed in warm bitterness: everything is temporary, everything is on the exhale, and this brings a strange relief.

In images - a portrait of a night vagrant with no address: a photo nearby, a sea of thoughts, a fire inside that will either warm you or burn you to ashes. The irony is that readiness for disaster turns into an almost cosy habit - it's convenient to know that you can start all over again, even if you have to burn a couple of bridges first.