ms. pui


she likes fruity pebbles for breakfast and a cup of naked milk. breath inside a good feeling, hiccups! dive into the river. I never dived into a river. All comes, what my eye seas. extend a corner, unsharp, all your pleases. she likes fruity loops for our song, lunch and dinner. waves hitting the door twice, bring her a hollow spoon. zoom in for more sensibility.

tickle the images around you.
once in a while, they burst into laughter.


Uçuş Korkusu "Fear of Flight"

Karalama II. sergisi "Uçuş Korkusu",
13 Haziran 2008 Cuma 19:19'da Daralan'da açılıyor.

I'll be over there,
on a wall, falling.
thank you.



Angebra on Supermatch* Vote!


My dear Moji Angebra is on war at Mojizu*
So if you feel like it and want to show your love
vote for her!

follow this link login
and vote for the dear angelic bunny girl***


little cloud


When I was a little girl, I asked my mom about the clouds. She said they were made of cigarette smoke. I still believe that. I still smoke.




wish for the best, expect the worst. wish for the worst expect the best. wish for the best, expect the best. wish for the worst, expect the worst. I'm glad, these sentences never meant anything to me.


navy blau


I found this navy blue pencil hiding inside my big fat blackholed pencil case. It says made in Germany on it. I just felt like it felt neglected, somehow. -I don't like colored pencils very much. I donno why, maybe something about my elementary school memories (oh those red pencils, always breaks inside, damn you!) or I just find them spoilt or too clean and easy. But I love them anyway if they are in their box, side by side like a rainbow, untouched, smelling virgin in every way.- Anyway, this blue one seemed very cute to me although It was probably half sized and had a nasty tip. I sharpened It gently, slowly and respectfully. I gave him another chance. I think everybody needs another chance but the politicians. they are my red pencils.


happy all dings


make a wish. wash the dish. like or not, you are my fish.


my fav font type is


Georgia. But usually I feel so alone about this, so I pretend something else. While typing with sans serif, I secretly adore the one two there next to each other. This might be my biggest secret.


home sweet


Our house is not in the middle of our street. Actually I really think our house should not be here where it is. Not in the winter, not when I need to go to the market, not when I were a kid back then.. When you buy a house you generally pay a lot. In that case, I would like to carry my house with me, please. You spend all your money, life savings, collage fond of your future kids and it doesn't do any tricks either? It may break down?! and bum* you loose it. It may burn* and again bum*. Actually choose your disaster, a flood? tornado? alien invasion? a volcano? you also loose everything you place inside. I think nowadays houses are just jokes. Even the candy house had a real purpose in this life and probably stayed up happily ever after, forever...

homy home humm hmm*


it's ok.


and he came to me with the loneliest feeling. said "hi" asked how am I doing. I said "this and that" he numbed. I said "it's ok. welcome to a healthy life."

eat an apple when you get up,
coffee is the new enemy.




my scanner is broken. my cam is useless. my mind is blurred. today you take care of yourself. I can think of nothing and the world never listen to me.

tell me tell me tell me;
or else.


all the lazy dykes

There are songs that I like, songs that make my day, songs randomly play on the radio and surprise me, songs stuck inside my head and drive me crazy, songs I sing in the shower, while cooking or in my dreams. There are songs good for eurovision, best for holidays and cool to listen while working, writing and drawing. Some songs are made of bees and some are made of butterflies. I don't like butterflies much. I like ladybugs and green bugs with not too many eyes. There are songs which we both like and songs to chill. There are songs to play and songs to cheer. There are songs that I only like their lyrics.

but do we have a song?
let's have a song.



there is something funny inside my bubbly soda. tickles my nose.

I don't like puppets.
I like demons.

mountain girl

mountain girl

those big smart windy hills, sugar on top; she comes from the silver mountains. i remember her dress, covered with snowflakes now she hates the taste of cornflakes and only cares about her tulippa*

I think all tulips are dutch,
no matter what istanbul remembers.


there is a bug in my soup


with her possessed eyes she looked at me and shouted! "waiter!". now "what?" I thought.

I have been working in this mess since I knew myself and here everyday is the same day. It's like living inside a stuck elevator and the elevator is an actual time machine. you know the feeling "geeez". ran between the white table clothings and extremely old fashioned ties and shoe laces and reached her destiny. "yes maam, how may I help you?" she got up, suddenly I was inside her huge blubby eyes and she said again "waiter!". and I said "yes mrs.leggo, what is it?" wooo; she kissed me. she definitely used the tongue. oh! that tongue. you would never want to know. I stood there and dropped couple of tears. in between the huge salty lips I mumbled "I guess you enjoyed your fly soup mrs.leggo?" after sucking up my soul completely, she replied. "this is better than the best, thank you chuck!"

I returned to my point. and that was a random day at the meal o frogg's. where there is always a bug on your face.



grin like summer


summer time drifted away. I miss the ridiculously salty waters, cheesy cocktails and those nasty sand in the bed. We haven't shoot any pictures but here is the naughty fish who has bitten my heels.


two right hands

in the name of all left handed people in the world! I would like to have two right hands. end of conversation.


das ist


uberhaubt nicht gut* ah for the sake of those little titties. I never knew I would hit 25. so soon. no, it's not my birthday. please! get out of here. I'm an old tiny lady with the youngest tricks. all brand new and smells like strawberries.

row row row the boat gently down the stream,
if you catch an old smelly fish send him down the drain.


mayan goddess


oh we must be mad. how come I type in this screen and you look in that screen and somebody stumbles these numbers. yes, these are all numbers. these do not exist. but the grass outside is real. step on it for me. even it is green or not from your side.

today I am feeling enlightened,
tomorrow never dies.