Hand tell the stories.

When I feel loneliness, I think about the history of my ancestors(female) inside me. It's so powerful to keep this in memory: I am,my parents and their parents - a decision to live. A female decision to take care of life. An important decision to keep on fighting for best, for life and for being a human. 

All the women in my family are special to me and their hands are telling their stories: rough ones of my gradmother,who had been hardworking entire life(even now in her garden), my mother, who is so soft outside but unhuppy inside. Me, this tattoed hands. that trying to figure everything out. 

Now it's my turn to decide what should I give next generation, it's the only what I want- is the best.

First sketch done by soft pastels during my psychotherapy in the Şişli park in Istanbul.

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