“Suppose the looking glass smashes, the image disappears, and the romantic figure with the green of forest depths all about it is there no longer, but only that shell of a person which is seen by other people – what an airless, shallow, bald, prominent world it becomes! A world not to be lived in. As we face each other in omnibuses and underground railways we are looking into the mirror that accounts for the vagueness, the gleam of glossiness, in our eyes.” Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts
Photo, as a memory of a sunny day in September, just few days before my birthday. Hanging around for evaluating the days of last and dreaming for the days of next, flowing from the smell of sea to taste of wine in a sense of nullity and searching the meaning of my life on the roads.
Yes, today is that day! Adorable, marvellous, last day, the day before summer holiday. For a while, I will be away from Istanbul, office stuffs and all kind of electronic gadgets. I will have just this three: love, blueness, and books. “I’m going to smile, and my smile will sink down into your pupils, and heaven knows what it will become.” Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit