39 years after the Turkish invasion, an island with two separated communities, a thousand of stories,
so many of which truly tragic,
so many ruins to remind you that you should not forget.
In almost every corner you can see the past not as a protected historic landmark space but with a great difficulty through much fear, just like in the forbidden dreams, like some nightmarish memories not letting you unsweat, even when burned by the scorching sun you still remain totally feraful sweaty even though the danger has passed, has it?
Sometimes Ι am wondering if I walk through history or I just wander around my very own imagination??
A little further pass me, horns, the noise of the modern city, around me, modern clothes, modern music, but somehow in an invisible matter the elements prevail,