My Story Is Shattered

"Don't tell me that my mother is dead, don't let her think that I love her because I am under her influence."
"Okay Galip."
"In the dark Don't tell me that I left the nightlight on because I couldn't sleep, so they don't think I'm afraid of weed or shit."
"OK Galip."
"Don't tell me that I am in love for the first time, so you don't think I am inexperienced in these matters."
"Okay Galip."
"Don't tell us that last year we forgot to pull the handbrake and rolled the Kartal into a dirty stream. He should not think that I am someone who does not appreciate his wealth."
"Okay Galip."
"Don't tell me that my father is a son of a bitch. I want to tell it myself."
"Okay Galip."
Young men who are the first customers of the night, waking up in the morning cafes and soup shops. A heartfelt memory that sometimes looks for the most meaningless face of living and sometimes looks for the windmill. Stories written for those who are not dead yet and have not met death... A swearing in the barrel... . A child who hasn't grown up... Cracking cars, swallowing songs and celebrating defeats, "life is a brick skyscraper, dear brother, we live in the wrong bracket. Let us talk, let's have a few words, we are looking at each other face to face..."

Emrah Serbes tells us about the smoke of the underground with a voice that echoes life and echoes from the street. He calls out to children who have fallen into the well with the endless anger of an adolescent. .

Shattered moments from Emrah Serbes, shattered memories, shattered stories< /h3>