Hello, I live in Hildesheim. I am volunteering here. I came with an Esc project. I'm an architect..I joined here because I like to meet new people. I want to travel and explore the World. I want to make good friends. I believe that life is a journey and I feel the importance of the moments when we stop every time I go to a new place and meet someone who thinks differently. If life is a journey, the people we meet on the way are the parts that make this journey meaningful. New people, new experiences always feed you.

"Florebo quocumque ferar" is my motto and I love it.

Why I’m on Couchsurfing

I like to share. Because I believe that we can realize the meaning of the things that exist in our lives. If we have something and it is something that can be shared, we must share it. That's why Couchsurfing. I love traveling. I want to help people navigate and build friendships here.

Interests

I can say that my biggest passion is taking photos and visiting new places. I am interested in photography as an amateur and I take mostly analog photos. The relationship between culture and architecture is my main area of interest and I want to produce something about it in the future. The difference and interaction between the digital and analog ones will be one of my research topics in the future.

• literature
• architecture
• music
• jazz
• camping
• philosophy
• art
• film photography
• people
• film
• desing
• analog photography
• book
• conceptual art
• classic music
• tactical urbanism
• social and cultural antropology
• disciussion
• nomad architecture
• nomadic works

Music, Movies, and Books

I don't want to write something here and limit them. If you are wondering about this, you will understand in time. or you can ask. Like my mood, it's changeable. It's not something I prefer to describe as 'my favourite'.

Karamazov Brothers, Crime and Punishment, War and Peace
Autumn sonata, Persona, Das Leben der Anderen, İncendies(2010), Nostalgia(1983), Dancer in Dark, Dogville, Autumn Sonata, etc.

My favorite director's;
Andrei Tarkovsky, İngmar Bergman, Kieslowski, Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Godard

One Amazing Thing I’ve Done

I traveled almost all of Turkey by hitchhiking. When I hitchhiked in Europe, I had to spend the morning on the 'autoban'. It was very interesting and scary. It was very cold and nobody wanted to stop. it was a very interesting experience. It was very good to do paragliding and diving. This year I will jump from 4000 meters.

Teach, Learn, Share

“…we take care not to touch each other in public, nor do we look into each other’s eyes except furtively, because Ivan must first wash my eyes with his own, removing the images which landed on my retina before his arrival.”

― Ingeborg Bachmann, Malina

“The Earth has no other refuge but to become invisible...”

Transitoriness is everywhere plunging into a profound Being. And therefore all the forms of the here and now are not merely to be used in a time-limited way, but, so far as we can, instated within those superior significances in which we share. Not, however, in a Christian sense (from which I more and more passionately withdraw), but, in a purely mundane, deeply mundane, blissfully mundane consciousness, to instate what is here seen and touched within the wider, within the widest orbit–that is what is required. Not within a Beyond, whose shadow darkens the earth, but within a whole, within The Whole. Nature, the things we move about among and use, are provisional and perishable; but so long as we are here, they are our possession and friendship, sharers in our trouble and gladness, just as they have been the confidants of our ancestors. Therefore, not only must all that is here not be corrupted or degraded, but, just because of that very provisionality they share with us, all these appearances and things should be comprehended by us in a most fervent understanding, and transformed. Transformed? Yes, for our task is to stamp this provisional, perishing earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its being may rise again, “invisibly,” in us. We are the bees of the invisible. Nous butinons éperdument le miel du visible pour l’accumuler dans la grande ruche d’or de l’invisible. . The “Elegies” show us at this work, this work of the conversion of the dear visible and tangible into the invisible vibration and agitation of our own nature, which introduces new vibration-numbers into the vibration-spheres of the universe. (For, since the various materials in the cosmos are only the results of different rates of vibration we are preparing in this way, not only intensities of a spiritual kind, but–who knows?–new substances, metals nebulae and stars.) And this activity is peculiarly supported and hastened by the ever swifter vanishing of so much that is visible, whose place will not be supplied. Even for our grandparents a “House,” a “Well,” a familiar tower, their very dress, their cloak, was infinitely more, infinitely more intimate: almost everything a vessel in which they found and stored humanity. Now there come crowding over from America empty, indifferent things, pseudo-things, dummy life … a house, in the American understanding, an American apple or vine, has nothing in common with the house, the fruit, the grape into which the hope and meditation of our forefathers had entered… The animated, experienced things that share our lives are coming to an end and cannot be replaced. We are perhaps the last to have known such things. On us rests the possibility of preserving, not merely their memory (that would be little and unreliable), but their human and laral worth (”Laral” in the sense of household-gods.) The earth has no other refuge but to become invisible: in us, who through one share of our nature, have a share in the invisible, or, at least, share-certificates, and can increase our holding in invisibility during our being here,–only in us can this intimate and enduring transformation of the visible into an invisible no longer dependent on visibility and tangibility be accomplished, since our own destiny is growing at once more actual and invisible within us. The elegies set up this norm of existence: they attest, they celebrate this consciousness… By making the mistake of applying Catholic conceptions of death, of the hereafter, and of eternity to the Elegies or Sonnets, one is withdrawing oneself completely from their point of departure, and preparing oneself for a more and more fundamental misunderstanding. The “Angel” of the Elegies has nothing to do with the angel of the Christian heaven… The Angel of the Elegies is the creature in whom the transformation of the visible into the invisible we are performing already appears complete… The Angel of the Elegies is the being who vouches for the recognition of a higher degree of reality in the invisible.–Therefore “terrible” to us, because we, its lovers and transformers, still depend on the visible.–All the worlds of the universe are plunging into the invisible as into their next-deepest reality; some stars have an immediate waxing and waning in the infinite consciousness of the angel,–others are dependent on beings that slowly and laboriously transform them, in whose terrors and raptures they attain their next invisible realisation. We, let it be once more insisted, we, in the meaning of the Elegies, are these transformers of the earth, our whole existence, the flights and plunges of our love, all fit us for this task.

This is a new era of mine and it immediately announces me. Am I brave enough? For now I am: because I come from the distress of pain, from the hell of love, but now you are independent. I'm coming from afar - a heavy singer like me. I come from the pain of living. I do not want that anymore. The excitement of the happiness I want. Mozart's neutrality. But at the same time I want a conflict. Freedom? my ultimate refuge, I have forced myself to freedom, and I do not like it as a talent but as a hero: heroic freedom. And I want the flow.
What I write to you is not peaceful. I do not explain my secrets. Instead, I transform myself into a metal. I am not comfortable for you or for myself, my word is drowning in my day. What you can learn from me is the shadow of the arrow that hit the target. I try to conceive a shadow that does not occupy space in vain for nothing, and the thing that is not very important is the target board. I build myself a little something from you and you - my freedom to my death.

Clarice Lispector, Living Water p.16-17

“It was Aureliano who conceived the formula that was to protect them against loss of memory for several months. He discovered it by chance. An expert insomniac, having been one of the first, he had learned the art of silverwork to perfection. One day he was looking for the small anvil that he used for laminating metals and he could not remember its name. His father told him: ‘Stake.’ Aureliano wrote the name on a piece of paper that he pasted to the base of the small anvil: stake. In that way he was sure of not forgetting it in the future. It did not occur to him that this was the first manifestation of a loss of memory, because the object had a difficult name to remember. But a few days later be, discovered that he had trouble remembering almost every object in the laboratory. Then he marked them with their respective names so that all he had to do was read the inscription in order to identify them. When his father told him about his alarm at having forgotten even the most impressive happenings of his childhood, Aureliano explained his method to him, and José Arcadio Buendía put it into practice all through the house and later on imposed it on the whole village. With an inked brush he marked everything with its name: table, chair, clock, door, wall, bed, pan. He went to the corral and marked the animals and plants: cow, goat, pig, hen, cassava, caladium, banana. Little by little, studying the infinite possibilities of a loss of memory, he realized that the day might come when things would be recognized by their inscriptions but that no one would remember their use. Then he was more explicit. The sign that he hung on the neck of the cow was an exemplary proof of the way in which the inhabitants of Macondo were prepared to fight against loss of memory: This is the cow. She must be milked every morning so that she will produce milk, and the milk must be boiled in order to be mixed with coffee to make coffee and milk. Thus they went on living in a reality that was slipping away, momentarily captured by words, but which would escape irremediably when they forgot the values of the written letters.”

— Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1970)

What I Can Share with Hosts

For now, I can share my house, my food. I try to help as much as I can on the subject, but if I can find time I can accompany you. I am interested in analog photography and if we can find the right time we can take pictures together.

Countries I’ve Visited

Belgium, France, Italy, Switzerland, Vatican City State

Countries I’ve Lived In

Germany, Turkey