JOY

Richard Bach's saying is the pivot of my project. I admire my mother's preparation for festive foods for her children. This summer, I captured some scenes in memory of her, who brings Smryna to the table. Sometimes a clear bottle of olive oil is served with a loaf of bread with white cheese and Sultaniye grape and fresh fig. Sometimes sour cherries are placed at the dinner table as a desert. Keshkek, a stew of wheat forged in a vast cauldron, is placed unsafely on a top gas cylinder cooker. After breakfast, the thick, strong Turkish coffee is served on the table. All these scenes are the tests that wonderfully identified with my mother and the summers when we used to visit in scanty times. These tables are set up in the patio surrounded by hangings, sun-dried eggplants. Just like he said, "The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life." (Richard Bach)