A scenery of early morning shabbat. Empty wine bottles left for the poor and homeless to hand in, to get some money back. with open books. because books you don’t throw away, a friend says! The pages are flying in the wind. For every person passing by another page to be opened. and left over bread, because holy bread people also don’t throw away.
The book of Hacivat & Karagöz came my way. I remember that one of the dolls was hanging biggest part of my childhood in front of my window. I don't remember, maybe my father or mother brought it after one of their trips.
The characters are two opposites, one is the elite, on the farmer. They clash. They make me think about the inferior and superior. An Israeli friend let me pick a card of a set. It is about letting go. Letting go of analysing what is better.
In existence there is nobody who is superior and nobody who is inferior. The blade of grass and the great star are absolutely equal.... But man wants to be higher than others, he wants to conquer nature, hence he has to fight continuously. All complexity arises out of this fight. The innocent person is one who has renounced fighting; who is no longer interested in being higher, who is no longer interested in performing, in proving that he is someone special; who has become like a rose flower or like a dewdrop on the lotus leaf; who has become part of this infinity; who has melted, merged and become one with the ocean and is just a wave; who has no idea of the "I". The disappearance of the ''I" is innocence.
I remember looking at the doll hanging at the window. Realising how many things have been feeding my I, and how many I's I met around me. How to go back to innocence?
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