My debut feature film 9 won two awards in
21st International Istanbul Film Festival in April 2002
and has been selected as Turkey's nominee for Foreign Film Oscar in 75th Academy Awards.
If you want to read about it, click here.

My all time favourites film list:
"Barton Fink", "Raising Arizona" (Joel-Ethan Coen)
"Roma", "Dolce Vita" (Federico Fellini)
"Brazil" (Terry Gilliam)
"Taxi Driver", "Raging Bull" (Martin Scorsese)
"Rumble Fish", "Godfather", "One From The Heart" (Francis Ford Coppola)
"The Meaning of Life" (Monthy Python)
"Y Tu Mama Tambien", (Alfonso Cuaron)
"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", (Michel Gondry)
"Drowning By Numbers", "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, Her Lover" (Peter Greenaway)
"Shame", "Fanny and Alexander" (Ingmar Bergman)
"Passenger" (M. Antonioni)
"Sunset Boulevard", "Double Indemnity" (Billy Wilder)
"In The White City" (Alain Tanner)
"Annie Hall" (Woody Allen)
"Wings of Desire" (Wim Wenders)
"Viridiana" (Luis Bunuel)
"Toy Story" (John Lasseter)
"Fight Club" (David Fincher)
"Truman Show" (Peter Weir)
"Glengarry Glenross" (James Foley, Written by David Mamet)

Jorge Lois Borges

If every name is (as the Greek maintains
In the Cratylus) the archetype of its thing,
Among the letters of ring, resides the ring,
And in the word Nile all the Nile remains.

Then, made up of vowels and consonants,
Encoding God’s essence, should exists some Name
Whose exact syllables and letters frame
Within them, terribly, Omnipotence

Adam and all the stars had known it, placed
There in the Garden. The corrosive rust
Of sin (cabalists say) has long effaced
The Name that generations since have lost.

Human innocency and human guile
Are boundless: it is known that a day came
When the chosen People pursued the Name
Over the wakeful ghetto’s midnight oil

Unlike the way of those who, as in fog
Beam a dim shadow in dim history,
Green and alive remains the memory
Of Judah, the Hohe Rabbi Löw of Prague

Yearning to know that which the Deity
Knows, the Rabbi turned to permutations
Of letters in complicated variations
And finally pronounced the name which is the Key

The Entry Gate, the Echo, Host, and Mansion,
Over a dummy at which, with sluggish hand,
He labored hard that it might understand
Secrets of Time, Space, Being, and Extension.

The simulacrum raised its heavy, lowered
Eyelids and perceived the colors and forms;
It understood not; lost in loud alarms,
I started to take groping paces forward.

And like ourselves, it gradually became
Locked in the sonorous meshes of the net
of After, Before, Tomorrow, Meanwhile, Yet,
Right, Left, You, Me, and Different and Same.

(The cabalists from whom the creaturu took
Its inspiration called the weird thing Golem-
But all these matters are discussed by Scholem
In a most learned passage in his book.)

The rabbi revaeled td it the universe
(This is my foot; that’s yours; this is a log)
And after years of training, the perverse
Pupil manged to sweep the synagogue.

Perhaps there was a faulty text, or breach
In the articulation of the Name;
The magic was the highest-all the same,
The apprentice person never mastered speech.

Less a man’s than a dog’s, less a dog’s, well,
Even than a thing’s, the creature’s eyes
Wolud always turn to follow the rabbi’s
Steps through the dubious shadows of his cell.

Something eerie, gross, about the Golem,
For at his very coming, the rabbi’s cat
Would vanish. (The cat cannot be found in Scholem;
Accross the years, I divine it, for all that.)

Toward God it would extend those filial palms,
Aping the devotions of its God,
Or bend itself, the stupid, grinning clod,
In hollow, Orientalized salaams.

The rabbi gazed on it with tender eyes
And terror. How (he asked) could it be done
Thet I engender this disressing son?
Inaction in wisdom, I left off being wise.

To an infinite series why was it for me
To add another integer? To the vain
Hank that is spun out in Eternity
Another cause or effect, another pain?

At the anguished hour when the light gets vague
Upon his Golem his eyes would come to rest.
Who can tell us the feelings in His breast
As God gazed on His rabbi there in Prague?

anyone lived in a pretty how town
e. e. cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did

women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes

women and men  (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
 

The Leaden Eyed

Vachel Lindsay

Let not young souls be smothered out before
They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride.
It’s the world’s one crime its babes grow dull,
Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden eyed.

Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly,
Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap,
Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve,
Not that they die, but they die like sheep.

Nature’s Lineaments

Robert Graves

When mountain rocks and leafy trees
And clouds and things like these,
With edges,

Caricature the human face,
Such scribblings have no grace
Nor peace-

The bulbous nose, the sunken chin,
The ragged mouth in grin
Of cretin.

Nature is always so: you find
That all she has of mind
Is wind,

Retching among the empty spaces,
Ruffling the idiot grasses,
The sheep’s fleeces.

Whose pleasures are excreting, poking,
Havocking and sucking,
Sleepy licking.

Whose griefs are melancholy,
Whose flowers are oafish,
Whose waters, silly,
Whose birds, raffish,
Whose fish, fish.
 

Epitaph on a Tyrant

W.H. Auden

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

The Last Words of My English Grandmother

William Carlos Williams

There were some dirty plates
and a glass of milk
beside her on a small table
near the rank, disheveled bed-

Wrinkled and nearly blind
she lay and snored
rousing with anger in her tones
to cry for food,

Gimme something to eat-
They’re starving me-
I’m all right I won’t go
to the hospital. No, no, no

Give me something to eat
Let me take you
to the hospital, I said
and after you are well

you can do as you please.
She smiled, Yes
you do what you please first
then I can do what I please-

Oh, oh, oh! she cried
as the ambulance men lifted
her to the strecher-
Is this what you call

making me comfortable?
By now her mind was clear-
Oh you think you’re smart
you young people,

she said, but I’ll tell you
you don’t know anything.
Then we started.
On the way

we passed a long row
of elms. She looked at them
awhile out of
the ambulance window and said,

What are all those
fuzzy looking things out there?
Trees? Well, I’m tired
of them, and rolled her head away.