Can Emanet

The voice is like a nighttime alarm: tired, but dramatic - as if the familiar world is about to burn down from a single spark. The words tear apart half-hearted hopes - “the world is burning,” “burn the ships,” and “drown in bottles” sound not like a complaint, but like a cunning decision made with a glass in hand. Here, reproach and resignation are mixed in warm bitterness: everything is temporary, everything is on the exhale, and this brings a strange relief.

In images - a portrait of a night vagrant with no address: a photo nearby, a sea of thoughts, a fire inside that will either warm you or burn you to ashes. The irony is that readiness for disaster turns into an almost cozy habit - it's convenient to know that you can start all over again, even if you have to burn a couple of bridges first.