i don't post here much any more, it's all on Instagram now and the app is easier. but i like this little pink room on the internet. i will leave it open.
thank you for the notes ♥
last photo from the ninth floor. we moved to a new flat.sixteen months at the paper. 41 cats, dogs, bus stops, a very large pumpkin, one wedding that the groom did not attend (a long story, ask me at a bus stop). my name is on 63 photographs.
i used to think i'd be a reporter who writes big things. the photo editor says: "you're the one who writes the small things so that people can see the big ones." i don't know if that's a compliment. i keep it in the pocket anyway.
three days of rain. the whole city is a reflection. i put the camera in a plastic bag and went out and photographed the puddles at night, with the trolleys passing through them like ships.
on the way home an old man asked what i was doing. i said "photographing the water". he looked at the puddle for a while and said "it's good water", and walked on.
the stalls on the road. the pickers' hands are the colour of the fruit.went on the weekend with my cousin and her husband, who drove. five hours with three stops. at the second stop an old woman gave us an apricot each and wouldn't take money. "you're too thin," she said, to me. i told her it was the camera that made me look thin. she said: "it's a lie."
the old cinema, tuesday evening. mr mamatov turning the motor of the second projector by hand.the paper sent me with daniyar osmonov, who wrote the long story about the projectionist (his blog is Long Way Round, here on kündölük). he writes slowly and he is very polite. he asked mr mamatov if i could take a photograph from the corner of the booth where the light from the window falls on the lens.
mr mamatov said: "only if you take your shoes off." we all took our shoes off. there's no film for the projectors anymore, but the floor of the booth is still treated like a place where something is shown.