PRELUDE – Oh air of evening wrap me, now that I die again. When it will close my eyes, there will be no sea for boats of tears. I go and leave you closed all the rain. But I will return again to every season that I want. I was the sadness of the world. Oh air of evening wrap me, now that I die again.
SHIROKA IN WINTER – There have no more birds. Flights are canceled. Nothing but the primitive aura of rain. The shore broods at the foot of the water, dreaming of the past summer. In the sand of oblivion I pick your portrait of the ceramic. That soon this summer, my God! A handful of sand and a sun fist. The whole summer calendar with a single Saturday, and all day Saturday with a kiss only.
Dora Kallmus, the pioneering photographer who continues to fascinate the world Meeting Benches is a…
The art of exploring deep themes, with humor and critical perspective If you are passionate…
The richness and depth of poetics without borders Meeting Benches is a place of connection,…
Ahmet Güneştekin, the visual artist who interprets oral narratives, legends and mythology Meeting Benches is…
Lucio Battisti: catchy melodies or complex and profound stories? For Meeting Benches art embraces any…
The journey does not matter, as long as the horizon is large An author's travel…