The unidentifiable beauty in mourning. In Memory of my best friend Fatih.
We were friends, yes we were close, as close as you can be to anybody. Together we scared away unwanted customers out of the shop, visited many blues festivals, had several quarter-pounders at the drive-thru, seduced our women and married our love, had dressed-up Christmas dinners, liked the famous sausages of the “Hema”, which we would eat in the mint green van, guarded the equipment of many artists, sold stuff at flea-markets and antique fairs, traveled thru Europe, scrawled along the beaches of Normandy and finally moved to Portugal. Nineteen years and six months we enjoyed each other’s company, trusted one another for the full hundred percent, had lot’s of laughs and shared moments of pain and grieve. Loyalty beyond any doubt, unconditional friendship, mutual respect until the day I had to put him in his grave and was putting the soil on top of my best friend ever. I cried for days because I knew that moment of saying farewell was nearby, he knew it to and seemed to be ready to l...