For The Turkish Impaired.

I'm grateful for all the feedback I receive from several blogs, forums, last.fm, et cetera. Thus I believe I owe you, you who don't understand a single word of Turkish, an explanation.

People ask me if I could write reviews in English, or don't write at all and post more links. First and foremost, the download links mean nothing, it's not a special thing to do and they don't make anything or anywhere more special than it already is. So no, I will not abandon writing and post download links without information or with information you can find anywhere, it doesn't require any effort and it is stupid.

To write in English, that's another story. Every artist included in these pages are special for me, they're not just some ordinary soundwaves, but stimulants for humane feelings. The curse of Babel wasn't just a simple confusion of tongues, but it was a confusion of senses as well; we are doomed to fear in our very own language, dream our dreams with the same words we have been hearing since the day we were born. It's the tragic game of nature and we can't seem to change it.

My primary concern in these pages is the power of sincerity, and everytime I have tried to write in English, I have failed miserably to show that. Thus I've been forced to write in Turkish, in which I can write like directing my blood flow to the pen ink or phone cables in this particular situation. Even though I'd be more than happy to explain what I've felt or what I've thought for those who feel curiosity, status quo will not change. If you have any questions at all, I encourage you to leave comments, send messages or just say hello. For those who want to know what's all this stuff about, let me make a summary.

Limbo Pillow is about,
staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles, sitting in a bus station and watch the people pass by, inhaling the last bit of cigarette, talking with ghosts, Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood, the endless cage of telephone cables, galactic-distance relationships, Anatolian sun, steel cold showers, flickering street lights, Dante, eaves dropping, making impossible plans, Bosphorus, carbondioxide breeze in underground stations, Gogol, taking pictures of rainbows, sunflower fields, Sub-commandante Marcos, familiar melodies you haven't heard before, unfamiliar melodies that make you weep, funeral pyres, you, mostly about me.

I wanted to use this opportunity to make us know each other and to express my most sincere feelings for everyone who has visited Limbo Pillow without understanding a single word; thank you very much.