Sanat Mozaik

[Terraluna]

The Beatles, Twist and Shout albumunu 3 Subat 1964'de Kanada'da Capitol Records etiketiyle piyasaya surdu.

[Terraluna]

Ingiliz rock grubu Black Sabbath, derleme albumu We Sold Our Soul for Rock 'n' Roll’u 3 Subat 1976’da Warner Bros. etiketiyle Amerika’da piyasaya surdu. (1 Aralik 1975, Ingiltere)

[Terraluna]

Sihirbazlar Cetesi (Now You See Me, 2013) filminin Henley Reeves karakteri, Muhtesem Gatsby (The Great Gatsby, 2013) filminin Myrtle Wilson karakteri, Iskoc asilli Avustralyali aktris ve manken Isla (Lang) Fisher'in dogum gunu (3 Subat 1976)

[Terraluna]

Irlanda kokenli rock grubu U2, Pop albumunden Discothèque sarkisini 3 Subat 1997’de yayinladi.

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Yunan asilli Amerikali Aktor John Cassavetes (3 Subat 1989) ve Italyan asilli Ben Gazzara'nin (3 Subat 2012) olum yildonumleri

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Cek yazar Bohumil Hrabal'in olum yildonumu (3 Subat 1997)



"Zira ben okurken, gercek anlamda okumam, agzima guzel bir cumleyi alir, bonbon gibi emerim, kucuk bir kadeh likor gibi yudumlarim, ta ki dusunce icimde alkol gibi eriyip dagilana kadar; sadece beynime, yuregime nufuz etmekle kalmaz, damarlarimin koklerine, kilcal damarlarin kokcuklerine kadar isler." Gurultulu Yalnizlik




"Kilometrelerce okunacak seyle yuklu tavanligin altinda sarhos, sirtustu uzanmis yatarken bazi seyleri, son derece nahos bazi seyleri dusunmeye korkarim, ornegin, ceketinin ters cevrilmis kolunda bir gelincik yakalayan ve tavuklari yaraladi diye adil bir sekilde oldurmeyip de hayvanin kafasina bir civi cakarak serbest birakan su korucuyu dusunmemeye calisirim. Hayvan avluda olene kadar uluyarak kosmus... Bir yil sonra korucunun oglu bir beton karma makinasini onarmaya calisirken elektrik carpmasindan olmus. Dun birdenbire kursun harcamak konusunda cimri davranan ormancinin, rastgeldigi butun kirpileri sivri bir kaziga gecirerek oldurdugunu hatirladim, ta ki gunun birinde karaciger kanserine yakalanana kadar; adam uc ayda oldu, karninda bir tumor ve beyninde dehsetle. Kitaplarin bana karsi komplo kurdugunu isittigimi sandigim zaman, bu tur dusunceler panige surukluyor beni, oyle dengemi bozuyor ki bu durum, pencerenin yaninda bir sandalyede uyumayi tercih ediyorum, once beni sivrisinek gibi ezip sonra da, tipki kafesli bir asansor gibi, yeri delerek mahzene kadar giden kitaplarin goruntusunden dehsete dusuyorum. insanin yazgisindan kacamadigini goruyorum: mahzende is ustundeyken kafama kitaplar, siseler, hokkalar, zimbalar yagar tavandaki acikliktan, evimde de her aksam kitaplar dusup oldurecek gibi olur beni, ya da en iyisinden agir yaralanmaktan kil payi kurtulurum. Tuvaletin ve odamin tavanina astigim o damokles'in kilici yuzunden cikip bira almak zorunda kalirim, o berbat sona karsi tek kalkanimdir bira..."



"I lie on my back half drunk under a canopy of miles and miles of texts, trying hard not to remember, but then I'll think of the time the local forester caught a marten in an inside-out sleeve lining and, instead of killing it, justly, for having gobbled up some chickens, he took a nail, hammered it into its head, and then let it go darting and howling around the yard until it died. And then I'll remember how a year later the forester's son was killed by a live wire while repairing a cement mixer. Just yesterday the figure of the forester came back to me, out of the blue, under my canopy, and I remembered him sharpening a stick each time he came across a hedgehog curled up in a ball and sinking that sharp stick into the hedgehog's stomach—he was too cheap to waste a bullet— until one day he took to bed with cancer of the liver and in return for all those hedgehogs he spent three long months curled up in a ball, a tumor in his stomach and horror in his brain, before he died. Such are the thoughts that make me panic when I hear the books above me plotting their revenge, and I am so terrified by the prospect of having them flatten me and then crash through each floor all the way to the basement, like an elevator, that I prefer sleeping in my chair by the window. The way I look at it, my life fits together beautifully: at work I have books -- and bottles and inkwells and staplers -- raining down on me through the opening in the cellar ceiling, and at home I have books above me constantly threatening to fall and kill or at least maim me. The swords of Damocles that I've hung from my bathroom and bedroom ceilings force me to make as many trips for beer at home as at work...."

[Terraluna]

Arnavut sair ve roman yazari Dritëro Agolli'nin olum yildonumu (3 Subat 2017)

Daglar, daglar, daglar,
Demir yuklu, yigitlik ve tohum yuklu!
Hicbir yere sigmazsiniz,
Yalnizca yuregim, yuregim icine alir sizi!



Mountains, mountains, mountains,
Full of iron, heroism and grain!
No measure can contain you,
Only my heart, that has room for everything!




Ben oldugumde, donebilirmiyim cayira
Baharda daglarimin uzerinde,
Sonbaharda kacarim tohuma.

Ben oldugumde, donebilirmiyim suya,
Bugulu nefesim
Yagmur gibi duser kirlara.

Ben oldugumde, donebilirmiyim tasa,
Ulkemin sinirlarinin uzerinde
Olayim bir sinir tasi.



When I die, may I turn into grass
On my mountains in spring,
In autumn I will turn to seed.
When I die, may I turn into water,
My misty breath
Will fall onto the meadows as rain.
When I die, may I turn into stone,
On the confines of my land
May I be a landmark.

[Terraluna]

“Bazen bir kentte amacsizca dolasir gibi oluruz. Sokak boyunca yurur, rasgele bir sokaga sapar, bir binanin yuzeyindeki kabartmalara hayranlikla bakmak icin durur, bize begendigimiz tablolari animsatan, kaldirimin ustundeki bir katran lekesini incelemek icin yere egilir, icinde tasidiklari yasantilarini hayal etmeye calisarak sokakta yanimizdan gecen insanlarin yuzlerine bakariz … (…) … bazen kentin icinde dolasirken hicbir yere gitmiyor, yalnizca vakit gecirmenin bir yolunu ariyor gibiyizdir, nerede, ne zaman durmamiz gerektigini bize bildiren de duydugumuz yorgunluktur. Ama nasil ki bir adimin ardindan kacinilmaz olarak ikincisi atilirsa, bir dusunce de bir oncekinden dogar; eger bir dusunce birden fazla dusunce dogurursa (esit derecede onemli iki ya da uc dusunce), yalnizca ilk dusunceyi sonuna kadar izlemek degil, ikinci, onun ardindan da ucuncu dusunceyi sonuca ulastirabilmek icin donup o ilk dusuncenin ilk durumunu gormek gerekli olur, boylece, zihinlerimizde bu surecin bir imgesini olusturmak istersek, insanin kan dolasimi imgesinde (kalp, atardamarlar, toplardamarlar, kilcal damarlar) ya da bir harita imgesinde (oncelikle buyuk bir kentin sokaklarini gosteren ya da benzin istasyonu haritalari gibi yayilan, kesisen ve kitayi zikzaklar cizerek dolasan yollari gosteren haritalar) bir yol agi cizilmeye baslanir, oyle ki (,) kentte dolasirken gercekte yaptigimiz sey dusunmek olur, dusuncelerimiz bir yolculuk olusturur, bu yolculuksa attigimiz adimlardan ne fazla ne ek******, boylece sonunda bir geziye ciktigimizi söyleyebiliriz, odamizdan cikmamis olsak da, bir gezi yapmisizdir, nerede oldugunu bilmesek de bir yere gitmis oldugumuzu guvenle soyleyebiliriz.” Paul Auster, Yalnizligin Kesfi



“Sometimes it feels as though we are wandering through a city without purpose. We walk down the street, turn at random down another street, stop to admire the cornice of a building, bend down to inspect a splotch of tar on the pavement that reminds us of certain paintings we have admired, look at the faces of the people who pass us on the street, trying to imagine the lives they carry around inside them… (…) … just as one step will inevitably lead to the next step, so it is that one thought inevitably follows from the previous thought, and in the event that a thought should engender more than a single thought (say two or three thoughts, equal to each other in all their consequences), it will be necessary not only to follow the first thought to its conclusion, but also to backtrack to the original position of that thought in order to follow the second thought to its conclusion, and then the third thought, and so on, an in this way, if we were to try and make an image of this process in our minds, a network of paths begins to be drawn, as in the image of the human bloodstream (hearts, arteries, veins, capillaries), or as in the image of a map (of city streets, for example, preferably a large city, or even of roads, as in the gas station maps of roads that stretch, bisect, and meander across a continent), so that what we are really doing when we walk through the city is thinking, and thinking in such a way that our thoughts compose a journey, and this journey is no more or less than the steps we have taken, so that, in the end, we might safely say that we have been on a journey, and even if we do not leave the room, it has been a journey, and we might safely say that we have been somewhere, even if we don’t know where it is.”