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Göksu Kunak (2016)

“Grayish skies washed away my colors.
During the long conversations by myself and with myself
I’ve embraced the loneliness
that was brought by dark scary and? Clouds.
I neither have the cloudbuster that Kate Bush has
nor the capablity of co-ll/rr-ecting (the) energy (in me)
I’m putting on my stockings in the toilet of a queer bar with glittery souls. I tear
them apart by accident while wearing them on (typical me) and meanwhile my
strap on shakes like a small dog’s cute butt. Ready for my monologue. I prepare
myself to step on the stage, where I usually try to get all the possible bravos, welove-
yous, can’t-live-without-yous or can’t-leave-without-yous. I forgot myself in
order to be on that stage to be a part of what is going around. I’ve been flying
through various lands: I’m still searching for my genie, though. Well, I’m about to
hit the roof.
Crash… Brace… Brace…” D thought…
A slight squeak of the old wood guides her towards the crime scene. No worries,
D says to all, we all misunderstood what sharing love is in the world of heteroformalities.
It is not you: it is the very first kiss.
Now, D is looking around in the cafeteria of bad coffee and fake smiles. Among all
the faces one attracts D’s attention. Ze plays with zir hair carefully while smiling
at D. Is it a sign of flirtation? The other looks at D, then turns back, sees the other
and immediately understands what’s going on. Our protagonist is the one to put
the blame on as well as the one sitting on the other side of the table. Yet, we will
never know what set them apart. D holds the tears that might fall down any
They met in a bus. During the 2,5 hours of in this non-place, they talked about
dancing. They smiled into each other’s eyes, their legs slightly rubbed. With a
wish to transform a small talk to a certain look in the eye, they skipped wherethey-
are-froms or what-their-names-are; such hints inevitably appear on the
surface. Short silences hung in the air, of course, but in general the flow
continued. The one near the window talked more – that’s something that the one
near the aisle always allows the other to do. In that way ze gives the
responsibility to the other and looks like a good conversation partner, although
what ze does is only to moderate the words rather than adding something to it.
They kept flirting; you know, the legs touch and none of them move. The one
near the aisle tries to figure out if the warmth coming from the other’s knee
means anything to the other or not. A lightning is seen from a distance. One of
them put a new combination of words on the table:
“There is a specific exercise that I love. At first it makes you feel vulnerable as the
other should hold your naked body from the tailbone. You sit and put your
weight onto the hand as if it’s a chair. The other feels the landscape of your
bottom – any kind of indentation or the roughness on your skin… At first you
think it will be tough for that person to carry you. The instructor warns you to let
go. You let go. The uncanny feeling that you don’t know where it comes from still
directs your presence. The other keeps showing the discomfort, because of not
being sure whether there is a sexual connotation or not. Ok, you both laugh – a
weird smile stays on your faces trying to ease the situation. Ok, you breath in and
out. The other keeps holding – both of your eyes are closed now. There is
warmth slowly coming from your tailbone. A feeling blended with the smell of
your favorite dish when you were a kid and the last time you saw your dad some
years ago – wonder where he is – wraps your skin. Through time both limbs, the
other’s arm and your ass, feel numb as a result of staying in the same position.
Then, you suddenly realize a sound: your own body silently cry and tremble.
Apparently, that was how our moms were holding us when we were infants.“
The one sitting near the aisle didn’t know what to say after this. They stayed in
silence in this air-conditioned bus and listened to the sound of the wild
raindrops hitting the windows. From the mirror hung above in the middle of the
aisle, the bus driver’s slight anxiety shaping his face could be read.
The avidity in their conversation couldn’t find a spot for itself that would allow
themselves to continue freely. However, the silence wasn’t uncanny. On the
contrary it reminded a moment that you’d have with a close friend when you are
watching television on the sofa. The one near the window broke the silence:
“Did you know that the word genius comes from the word genie? In the old times
artists used to put the blame on their genie if they couldn’t succeed – my genie
disrupted me – or when they wanted to be humble – thanks to my genie I could
create this masterpiece. Their creation was personified through a genie. In that
way, they could distance themselves from the burdens of creativity and success.
I have a tattoo since the age of 19, the year that I’ve decided to dance. It’s a genie
without a face but with a smile. That smile reminds that the genie will guide me.
I just have to trust.”
They didn’t think about the rest of the day and almost forgot about where they
will head for when the bus arrives to the destination. They might never see each
other again. The one near the aisle thinks about getting the contact, but then
decides not to. Ze needed to pee and went to this tiny plastic toilet. When ze
came back to the seat the one near the window asked to exchange their contacts.
They both smiled.

D keeps looking around with a smile that has nothing to do with the real feelings
inside. The raindrops are leaking through the roof of the newly constructed
building designed by a starchitect that was mentioned in the articles of
renowned magazines.

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