Dear Sibel,

The second I saw you in that film I knew it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen: your nose. One day I was gushing over your nose and a friend informed me that you’ve had a nose job since you did Head On. That’s really too bad. I don’t ever want to watch Games of Thrones now; I vow to never watch that show as loyalty to your pre-op perfection (I wasn’t that interested in it anyway).

Luckily my friend also told me that you used to perform in porn back in Germany, thank god. Now I can watch your nose echoing forever across the internet, those chunks of grade A Turkish cartilage still intact, in their most pristine position.

Sometimes I like to imagine where these tissues with their blood and phlegm might be today. I see my beloved red and pink masses flung beyond the atmosphere through a strong sneeze, bone and cartilage scrapings orbiting the planet in a steady pull, tilting quietly their wetness silent. I’ve always thought everything in space is silent. Tell me it’s stars exploding everywhere. Or maybe your old nose is congealed on the edge of a pond somewhere, a constructed backyard dip for some coy and a few shrubs, an elaborated aquarium. Someone built a kiddie pool into the ground in their best efforts at the time but from the feet stomping and slip-and-sliding and the tectonic shifting the blue whale pattern peaks from the grass now and their kids trip over it every so often, their toe getting caught on the lip.

Where words hit bodies = where words try to be enough. Saying this even is a loss; there is no language to describe what courses through me. So I wrote this video love letter, dedicated to you, and chose the 1934 Fréhel song Si tu n’étais pas là which means if you weren’t here. She was a French singer whose addictions impeded her finding lasting love and whose sorrow I think one day I will relate to. I used footage of your nose from an early casting couch tape as background slideshow for the song. Fréhel’s unrequited heart swell gives me this panging nostalgia for an adult notion of love that I know I don’t know yet. It makes me feel like I grew up too fast, or that I haven’t grown up yet or that both are happening to me at the same time.

Always, together, your biggest fan,


P.S. The video has over 166K hits on youtube, majority from Turkey between the hours of 11pm and 4am. Unfortunately the audio has been altered due to a claim by the copyright holder, so I suggest watching it here.

(originally published in Be About It Zine: RICH, 2014)