Dark Essences

(after Zeki Müren)

What if there'll be separation in our fates
tomorrow
do not think that the story of those trembling branches
finishes with the fallen leaf
it is the finality of black earth
that will house this love for ever.

Do not cry
Do not be sad
face tomorrow with a smiling face
do not think
your beauty will fade away (for it did not belong to you to begin with)
with the white that has fallen
upon your silken hair

it is the finality of black earth
that will house this love for ever.

Valley of the Wolves- a Zizek moment

On my latest to trip to Thessaloniki (on my way to Korça) across from the aisle where I sat, there was a man of quite some stature, bald head, quiet manners, presence. I was thinking it must be in the image of this sort of man that the director of Valley of the Wolves must have painted the various characters in his ultra-nationalist drama series, and I was thinking, there is no shortage of such men to be drawn upon on the streets of Istanbul. The puny extent of my knowledge of the series was revealed (puny, but knowledge it was!) when during the break a group of Turkish/Greek students (we need some qualification here, Turks from Thrace who are citizens of Greece) who studied in Istanbul who were going home for holidays surrounded the man and asked him whether he was a particular character in the series. Of course he was! So what I thought was the signified, was in fact the signifier! That was the cause of his presence.

Here we have the dangers of passive TV watching, much much worse than the active one.

The Good, The Bad, The Undead

I do not remember what it was that had made me so upset. This was pre-Wadham. It was still Lincoln times. I had found myself sitting on a bench across from Christ Church, admiring the ivy clinging to the façade, trying to imagine the lives of the students inside. I was also feeling very small and sorry for myself. Then a woman approached me out of nowhere and asked me if I was feeling alright. When I lifted up my face she was startled and said "Sorry, I thought you were someone else" and then shared with me the story of the very clever British Asian kid who'd fled home, and how from afar I looked like her. I must've looked very small indeed. I had heard of the story alright and this case of mistaken identity cheered me a bit. The girl was dis/recovered, so far as I remember, a couple of days later.

That, is the first memory in the palimpsest.

Khor Virap Catechism

Nothing's over, ever (Jamaica Kincaid)

Doppelgaenger to Doğu Beyazıd, doppelgaenger to the Soviet, doppelgaenger to the North Parade, doppelgaenger to Hrdlika, doppelgaenger to...

a place for sacrificial lambs, my guide tells me
I'm going up the stairs alright, going up the stairs...