Beneath the ancient shadow of the mosque, the quilt maker’s workshop breathes in quiet persistence. A historic fountain stands as a silent witness at the threshold, offering respite to the thirsty. This scene is a fragment of Anatolia’s unscripted choreography—where the sacred, the artisanal, and the everyday flow into a single, unposed frame.
Ferdi stepped out of the city's rush to offer a greeting, a cigarette resting between his fingers. He was on his way back to a municipal shelter—a life sustained by social aid. While the frame doesn't reveal his limp or the heavy bags he carried, it captures a moment of dignity in his pause. A quiet intersection where a journalist's witness meets the unposed honesty of 35mm film.
Inside the halls of the Konya Archaeology Museum, a seated figure on an ancient sarcophagus remains frozen in a perpetual act of reading. Through the lens of 35mm analog, the cold marble acquires a layer of film grain, bridging İwo eras of documentation—history carved in stone and the chemical witness of the present. A silent dialogue across millennia.