Naz Köktentürk
I’m crossed with a man.
So then I took a picture.
A picture of a little girl
Standing in the ruins!
I’M CROSS, I’M NOT PLAYING
I wrote it and sent it off.
Actually I wasn’t cross, no no, I wasn’t cross at allll…
But looking around; the laundry to the clothesline, the teas onto their trays, the drunkard to the bottles, the homeless to the pavement, the gypsies to their pink, the Kurdish to their jazzy red and green, the Armenians to their topik, the Greeks to their syrtaki, the queer to their wig, mary jane to her pot, the musicians to their instruments, the violin to the darbuka, the lunatics to themselves, the neighbourhood to its city, the city to the dead-end of RENT…
The whole town was cross!
I’m crossed with a man.
So then I took a picture.
A picture of a little girl
Standing in the ruins!
I’M CROSS, I’M NOT PLAYING
I wrote it and sent it off.
Actually I wasn’t cross, no no, I wasn’t cross at allll…
But looking around; the laundry to the clothesline, the teas onto their trays, the drunkard to the bottles, the homeless to the pavement, the gypsies to their pink, the Kurdish to their jazzy red and green, the Armenians to their topik, the Greeks to their syrtaki, the queer to their wig, mary jane to her pot, the musicians to their instruments, the violin to the darbuka, the lunatics to themselves, the neighbourhood to its city, the city to the dead-end of RENT…
The whole town was cross!
167 Pages, Turkish/English, November 2013
ISBN: 978-975-8919-94-9