dear stranger-friends,
i am writing to you from a very windy, dark week on this island. i went offline for three days - and it felt like three weeks - and returning to the world was like returning from a submarine. i'm not sure i liked it (the return, that is - i loved the submarine). in those three days, I threw myself into language learning -- learning a language is like unveiling a world - albeit very slowly - and adding a new veil to yourself. more on this eventually. this week: notes on still lifes, windy days, old man in a bird shack.
*
i'm wishing you
the softness of
getting enough sleep,
kening
PS. house on the webs has officially begun! I will probably do another beta round in january. you are welcome.
inspirations
- i am learning turkish using a mix of duolingo, anki, pimsleur, song lyrics, and tv shows. i watched 2 seasons of Aşk 101 - which i thought would be cheesy, but it's actually so so good - about turkish teenage friends in the 90s - I found it deep yet light, and full of feeling.
- everyday, i am experiencing full pleasure in working out to german rap -- somehow german just sounds better yelled. i will probably learn german this way (eventually) and sound like a rapper. do i dare share my playlist? yes.
- latest favorite turkish song with lyrics that hit me in just the right spot: benden sana - nil karaibrahimgil
resources from the archives
- creating a nest ambience (written from my old home in berlin)
- how much structure do you need? (written from my first lockdown in japan)
- a daily digital solitude (from experiments with digital ramadan - i still do this).
- the body remembers how to center (from berlin days and doing pottery at home)
- sleep makes things softer (i needed this reminder this week)
windswept days in santorini | on being blown away
these days on the island have been so windy. if it’s windy and cloudy (and dark), and the wind is strong enough, it feels like you’re at the end of the world. no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to hold onto any of your worldly posessions, let alone your own body.
a santorini still life & on drawing everyday
a drawing of santorini wild plants. i try to do a new drawing or animation everyday - and it feels like working a different part of my brain. if i don’t do it for one day, i can feel that part gathering dust and stiffness - like not doing yoga, or stretching, or drinking water. you can feel the internal dehydration of your seeing eye. 
the wild plants of santorini
the world looks very, very different when you see it through the act of finding wild plants to collect. where were they hiding before? how did I never see them?
a house on an island | imaginary future homes
one day, in the next few years, i would like to buy a house on an island - perhaps at the edge of a cliff - a place where i can see the sunrise and watch birds flying from my terrace.
the old man and his bird shack of life | santorini
a serendipitous encounter after I got lost one day — an old greek island man invited me into his bird shack -- to look at wild birds he was feeding. i was so moved by the this experience -- i took from it, the essence of life distilled in 10 minutes -- that i had to go home and sit down.
thank you for reading my weekly artistic digest! write me back anytime.