Engin Akyurek maybe the best actor in the world ever-BIO/Updates pg4 - Page 60

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DefLeppard thumbnail
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Posted: 7 years ago
@Vids...thanks*hugs*
If he writes...its too personal(transcripts with ink pen:D) n gives no scope for too many changes like the e-media.
*perfection personified?*
But expect him to type on ipad etc.
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Posted: 7 years ago
Oh 12th Jan...David Guetta concert @ Bangalore. Got my tickets :)
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Posted: 7 years ago

Originally posted by: DefLeppard

Oh 12th Jan...David Guetta concert @ Bangalore. Got my tickets :)


Woww thats wicked Vids 👍🏼 Enjoy maadi 🥳
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Posted: 7 years ago
Anyone else getting Sherlock Vibes?! From the promo pic where Enginooo is holding his collar/coat?
He looks so delicious in all the promo pics. And the makeup team is fantastic the prosthetics looks so real he's wearing in the long hair shots. He looks tired and bloated. I like how he looks like the brother kerim and omer lost in a melaa. He retains the best of both in his new look. fahriye is glowing and looking so beautiful. I squealed when he holds her hands. Ufff...I can not wait for Jan to come already!!!

I love love love loveee their chemistry!!!! It's goals. I don't know how he does it. He looks amazing with all the brunette So much!

Also for those who did not understand the promos, selvi is a lawyer who goes to daghan saying he needs to reconsider opening his case again as there's a mistake and she thinks he is innocent. She says you have only 1 chance again to make it right, and don't face the sentence but he tells her to get lost basically.
He is so dominating and assertive that hardened attitude from spending 11 years in prison. I want to know why he tells her to shutup rather than take that chance to get out, what is he hiding he must have covered something big and sensitive if he did not kill the guy.

Sooo many questions. The episodes will be 2 hours long.season will be 13 episodes. Hope it's a hit and ratings are good. So they can renew it for second season.

Drag hand has kerim' s suffering yet Omer's attitude.
Hope he has the tenderness of kerim and passion of omer too...lol.
Edited by SaraFatma - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago

Originally posted by: blyton

A short story by Engin which I don't think has been shared here. Credit to Engin Akyurek Fan Club on FB.

" Silence "

By : Engin Akyrek (Translated by Snjena Eliza )

Winter day. Ankara has become like a refrigerator. There was a loud whistling wind. The snow covered the street with its soft white. The edges of the roof looked like lace of wedding dress, it was the very picture of innocence. I put the tea to cook, but I stayed in bed, in order to not interrupt my dream. I tried to sleep, put my head under the covers but my ass was left outside. From the street came this sound. Next door I heard the symphony of muted and silenced voices. I leaned my head on the moist window and my eyes saw the reason of these silenced voices. Selim's father died, of one of my best friends. People have been transmitted the message silently . I stormed out on the street without my boots and my coat on. My mother's voice made me returned to put on formal clothes.

I went in the house Selim. In front of the door there was a lot of shoes, evidence on what was happening inside .. At one point I realized that the whole neighborhood was there. Everyone is wearing what they found .. Some came with summer slippers in a hurry to share the pain of the death of the neighbor. I thought, "Gee, Mom, will you now say that I came into the house of the deceased with the boots and the coat." Carrying this thought of what others will say I snuck into the house of the deceased. I rang the door. A small girl opened . Her frail youth made me feel the death even more tangible . She showed me Selims room. I went in. Selim and other kids from neighborhood were trying to ease the pain of death with the silence. In the next room the mother of Selim and several elderly aunt mourned the deceased. On the opposite side was another room. There was elders uncles and older people from the neighborhood stearing at the carpet on he floor, not lifting their look from it .. They have reacted to the death with silence. Everyone had a design on the rug that belonged only to him. I said, "My condolences, Selim." "Thanks," he said

I could not think what else to say before the face of death. I, like others, ducked my head and I tried to find a figure on the carpet that is totally, reflecting the state of my soul. They brought chay (Tea) . All the crying has stopped for a cup of tea. I and other kids from the neighborhood we wanted to defy death by starvation. We decided not to put any food in the mouth, so we fight for our boyish hearts. Of course, we understood ourselves without even looking at each other, and not taking our eyes from the ground, but the voice of grief was even bigger than our stomachs rumble. At one point is an auntie put before us gurabie and cookies. It was a real torture, as when a man struggling with a physical desire, but we did not want to give our victory up over the first temptation. They poured us tea. Selim raised his head and said: "Eat, guys." At that moment late father of Selim became our dad. I forgot who first began to push, but I remember that we threw ourselves on the food as if it were prey pushing each other hands. When in the body lies a child, a little smile, at the right time of life, is enough to wake this child. Selim laughed. We crammed cookies and gurabie in our mouth and he hid his mouth for no bursting into laughter. Despite the postulates of psychological science, Selim was just a child. Our confusion was short and we began to burst with laughter. Auntie brought tea and Selim said: "Quiet, it's a shame my son. Your father died today," and explained how to meet death. He continued to laugh and I said, 'Selim, you want to go get some air? " Our faces are shining and it was our victory over death. Without telling anyone, we flyed so nobody sees us and speeding like thieves we caught jackets and rushed out. We hurried down the street without knowing why and where we run. We followed Selim. Too tired from the chase We crashed to the ground. We knew that today we'll do what ever Selim would asked (told us). I asked: "What do we do now?". Selim looked at us with sad eyes, said to follow him and stood at the head of the group. First we went to a room full of computers. With a single stroke we free the access to games from small children .. We started to play on computers. Everyone was letting Selim to win. We were to small to let us play billiards, but we pretended to / illegible / and we entered. We didn't know how Selim felt at this right moment...We could not know everything. Better this way. Tired of our large pool that was just our size, we took to the streets again. One child stopped us. "Brother Selim everyone in the house is asking for you." "Well, go home, I'm coming." said Selim. He wanted to live his pain with us, despite the cold breath coming out of his mouth, we went out on the streets of Ankara. We were his best friends, for kids that means as close as brothers. We walked around the neighborhood. Our causeless smiles were welcome in cold weather. It was the most natural way to warm us up. A single smile in the snow can do that on the roofs flourish flowers. As we walked around smiling everybody watched Selim with looks saying: "So that is the way the child, whose father has died, behave."

Suddenly in front of us appeared Selim's uncle. Seeing him smiling, he gathered the bushy eyebrows up, so the snow on the edges of roofs turned into ice. "Are you not ashamed? What kind of business you have to be outside? Your father died today," he said, emphasizing what he said with his thick eyebrows. Selim bowed his head in silence. Perhaps he searched in the snow a design that was on the rug. "I was going home, uncle" The noise-free, but gentle Selim voice, did that our childish bodies suddenly got grown masculinity. Selim became a soldier, Hakan got married, Velia got a bunch of kids. We walked down the street like grown men. We talked how we are experiencing pain. Only Selim talked about some nice things. His uncle had to prepare the funeral, so he turned into the alley. Selim then paused, looked us in the eye and said: ". I do not feel like going home" We listened to Selim, and well we did. We came to a place (some unknown) and we started to talk about the various adventures. If you try to close your eyes, and go back to your childhood, led into it with a couple of sentences, I do not know exactly which ones, but certainly you'll like, and it will be close to what Selim was just telling us . We were starving. With the last remaining coins that we found in our pockets we bought soda and chips. Everyone was talking about the girl, and when stucked between love and lies we laughed again. But the freezing in Ankara was not harmless as children's lie. We threw some looks around to make sure that no one of the neighborhood saw us. Fearing that we could be seen or heard, we tried to open the chips even without the rustle. When Selim began talking about a girl, who is his love, we all believed. We wanted to believe him. Before our eyes Selim turned into Kerem or Meynun. We were left to assume the role as liars and just for fun we told our invented stories, sipping from a bottle of mineral water. Selim put the bottle on his head, looking at the clouds, and then he lowered his head and looked at us sadly, but with his eyes laughing . Perhaps as he looked at the clouds he saw his father. Maybe it was he, smiling, among them. Just the way Selim smiled at us. When we started to talk, he was silent. He just smiled. I said some things. It does not matter what I was talking about. All that matters is that we are together trying to counter pain. We were kids and sitting on cold stone so we wanted to stay children. Everyone sometimes wished to remain forever a child. I think even those whose childhood was hard, when they grow up, they are ready to swallow anything in order to go back to being children. Maybe it's my childhood, but if we sat together on the cold stone, drank soda and then you might think the same. Veli quietest boy among us, said: "Bears, how you ate those cookies this morning." We all laughed again, but this time we exchanged some kicks. Because of laughing my chips was blown from my mouth. I put a bottle of mineral water on the head and said, "Cheers!" Selim looked at the clouds. His eyes were full of tears. "Shut up, shut up!". We stopped and we asked together, "Selim, are you all right?" On this day Selim was our father, brother, our conscience, it was part of our hearts. "Shut up hell. Today my father died!"

Decoding Engin's Silence.

The basic plot of this essay/write-up is about Engin hearing his close friend Selim's father's death news and rushing to offer his condolences. Starting smoothly with a winter morning snow compared to a wedding gown - for its purity, peace and primary.It then moves on the narrate the atmosphere at Selim's house, grappled with the fear of losing a dear one, uncertainties moving forward without the head of the family etc.

Fear is the most avoided topic in our lives. How often have we discussed our fears with anyone - be it a friend, loved ones or in anonymous?

Selim's uncle staring at the dedicated patterns of the carpet represents the vast majority of us who continue to ignore and remain silent for the fears in life.And then the auntie offering tea and cookies are the remaining few who want to uphold the fear factor with a logical reasoning.Blame it on culture, traditions or simply a lame excuse to avoid it(postpone talking about it). While the friends resolve to resist but soon they give up to the temptations of easier paths.

And while a confused Selim is baffling with the events around him, his friends' behavior gives him a quick respite from the fear he his facing.

Fear Psychosis is the secret to Engin's Silence pudding. And death is by far the biggest or largest fear we(any living thing) avoid to face.

Psychosis essentially mean "loss of contact with reality" and invariably brings in abnormal behavior through this condition.

While the kids move out quickly, all they do is loiter around with win every game on computer, lie on every girl who fell like 9 pins for them etc...to put a brave front and sound fearless?

And finally the moment of truth, when Selim had to attend his father's funeral had arrived, all Selim could do was make a wish looking at the clouds to help share the pain by rain(large tears)and by moving his dad as virtual entity

And his usual trick in bringing back childhood...is not with out a significance.*wicked* Often haven't we seen a child(age 1-3 years) watching the deadliest snakes,alligators etc on television without any fear. Most fears are instilled by parents and guardians. So was the case of Selim. The ability to be ignorant of fears is highest amongst children.

So a parting question to all readers...he skilfully puts forth our preparedness for facing the fears? Is it silence or postponement to face it or do we have a unique recipe to conquer them???

Two movies which popped were Zindagi Na Milegi dobara - each character has a fear factor to tackle, Life of Pi etc

Brilliant piece of writing as always...loved the take on fear-silence and death as a the backdrop. Only if we could get him reading this...*day dreaming*

PS: Had to quote @Blyton's post to give context to other readers :) Apologies to be accepted.

shalu79 thumbnail
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Posted: 7 years ago
Amazing analysis @Vidya...u decoded it perfectly...👏
So true...each one of us deal with our fears in our own way...
There is so much depth in each of his writeups...that makes one wonder what thoughts or circumstances inspired him to write it ...
Looking forward to more such analysis of yours on his other stories😳
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Posted: 7 years ago
Engin and Fahriye made a wonderful after Engin and Beren dis pairng of Engin made me love dem <3
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Posted: 7 years ago
Friends the translated version of Engin's latest story.

The Snowman By Engin Akyurek

[Translated by Engin Akyurek Universal Fans Club]
(Please note that there maybe some improvements on the translation later on).



"If he laughs well, he's a good man" - F. Dostoyevski

I don't ask myself the question of "Who is a good man?" Which one is more effective; little bit of smiling of good people or spluttered guffaw effects of bad people? Even though a response to each question remains as an answer, one doesn't usually question a beautiful laughter.

He put his most shivering part of his heart on the middle of the table. His eyes, looking at me head to toe, were like the astute gaze of an old woman. Although he was eight years old, he looked like a youngster.

"What?" I asked with a disdainful attitude coming from me just turning 9. He had told me his New Year plan bit by bit as if he had breadcrumbs in his mouth and was carefully getting them out by trying to be cautious not to drop them all over the place.

We would write "Welcome 1990" on the window. We would cosmetically bury the 80s into the darkness of the history with the help of a glue and some cotton that he would steal from his mother's drawer. Hakan had planned everything. The window of our living room would be used on New Year's eve. Our families would gather in our house. We would have tangerines, kisir (bulgur salad - tabouli), play bingo and then go to bed. We wouldn't forget about the snowing effect and use the carefully formed small cotton balls for that. Even though the reality of the snow outside slapped us in the face, we would prefer to be decorative. Japanese glue (1) would enter our lives later on but Japan would always remind us Baris Manco (2).

Hakan was very excited. He wanted to do so many things that it was as if he forgot that he was eight years old and waiting for someone to remind him this. The snow outside not only made fun of the cottons that we glued on the window but also told something to the 80s as well. Maybe we would miss the modest and humble 80s but we had such a strong expectations on 90s that we couldn't even imagine how 2000s would belittle 90s later on.

After we got the glue off our hands, Hakan had told me his second plan: "Let's make a snowman." When the clock struck the midnight, we would take our families to the backyard and show them our snowman. It was a nice plan and would add high resolution to 80s' single channel life (3).

The importance and meaning of those days both colored our loneliness and caused us collect as many memories as possible. I had kyped a carrot from the refrigerator as Hakan stole cotton from his mother's drawer. Because of aesthetical concerns, I had stopped by coal cellar and grabbed a handful carefully selected coal pieces.

At the backyard, we had first built a big body with the snow that we shoveled. Hakan had kneeled and, acting as if he was tired, showed once again what a reckless child he was. I had done the second piece and the most elaborated places between its neck and belly with my cold hands. It was getting dark. My cold hands, getting faster, had humanized the face of the snowman with surgical accuracy; a snow-white and smooth skin, two eyes from small coal pieces, and a smiling face with smaller coal pieces...The snowman's smile was so beautiful that the darkness of coal pieces had warmed my heart. Making the carrot his nose and attaching a broom to its body, I had finished my snowman and it had a sparkling smile.

My snowman was the only thing that I liked in my 8 years long life. My pastel paintings and potato prints were like monstrosities from the Paleolithic period compare to it. One's instinct of creating something and admiration to that thing one created could be accomplished with just a carrot and Zonguldak coal (4).

The sound of our single channel life which calmed us and, time to time, made us fall asleep would create great excitement as the countdown started. Streets were sparkling as if they were 8 years old and waiting for this day. Obviously, we hadn't liked 80s.

When the anchor, using all the delicacies of Turkish language, announced the winning lottery ticket number on TV, the silence of the smallest prize had won in our home again. Meals that our mothers prepared, orange smells, and us who advanced to "Bingo" from "Sorry" trying not to sleep were taking revenge from the 80s. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6. ... The start of a new year, our hugs with new hopes, and our fantastic belief for the future showed that we could stay human regardless.
Before reaching the most inviting hours of our sleep, we had taken our folks to the backyard. Siblings, grandmothers, aunt-in-laws had come to the backyard with us. We had some drunken or smoking audience who were watching us from their balconies. The backyard had turned into a fairground. Hakan's father had said "So?" with a fatherly voice. And I said "here", pointing out the snowman with my hands. The whole neighborhood turned their head as I turned my head and looked at my snowman. After a little silence, when I approached my snowman, I saw that his carrot nose had tuned into a sexual organ and his smiling face had become wicked adjectives of unfilial children. My snowman was ridiculed by everybody including drunken Uncle Selim in his balcony because of the lower neighborhood's hateful eyed children had made fun of it. The crowd's muttering laughter and the sounds made by old ladies had showed that we could still be embarrassed by a carrot. Tears had been welled up in my eyes and I had hardly contained myself from crying. I hadn't liked the 90s at all. I had immediately wanted to go to bed, pull the cover over me and forget this night. What happened to my snowman had upset me more than people who laughed at me.

He had smiled so beautifully; I wished everybody could smile like that. It was as if something was blown into my ear, into my 8 years old soul. I had collected all of the smiles years ago by myself. I would collect tens of similes from the faces and gazes I loved, like a breath that I would take as long as I lived. I would find those smiles sometimes buried in a lover's dimple, or on a friend's hand extended to me, or most importantly, while laughing on the inside like looking at yourself in the mirror.

As soon as I wake up, I would make better faces to my snowman. I had woken up to my mother's voice in the morning. It was almost afternoon. I was going to run to the backyard, but I had been petrified when I saw the rain drops on the window. It had rained and melted the snow away. The beads (tears) that I had been trying to hold in my eyes since the last night had started falling like evil-eye beads. I ran to the backyard and saw the smiling coal pieces, the carrot and the broom standing in silent homage on the wet ground. While I was collecting the small coal pieces, I heard my mother's voice: "Come inside, you will get cold."

Looking at the coal pieces in my hand and as if I was talking to my snowman, I asked: "Mom, do good people always laugh nice?"

"How did you come up with this? Who told you this?"

"Who can it be? My snowman."

(1) super glue
(2) Baris Manco was a very famous Turkish rock musician who passed away in 1999. He toured in Japan in 1995 and this was a huge thing in Turkey back then.
(3) During the 80s, there was only one TV channel which was state-run TRT.
(4) Zonguldak is a port city in the Black Sea region that has coal-mines nearby.
Edited by vidya0906 - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago
Decoding Engin's - Snowman

Essay being released at the threshold of a new year with a very apt title Snowman.

The lucidity in spinning the preparations for a new year celebrations along with his partner in crime Hakan is so relative to any 8-9 kid.
In India too, most kids (like me) in late 80s and early 90s, waited for the year end countdown at Doordarshan, family pot luck and house party.

Hakan and Engin plan for their own little celebration to surprise their near and dear ones.
The excitement and run-up to the decorations ( esp ...putting cotton wool for snow) was silly, but very true.

The boys have an execution of the bigger plan - making of a snow man.
While the raw materials are sourced and the snowman takes shape..the kids feel proud on the unexpected fete.

Havent we heard that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder? And when the beauty is appreciated, there is a smile (as an acknowledgement) on your face?

The juxtaposition is very well articulated as ...

When its time to showcase their "smiling" snow man elders who are burdened with life/responsibilities fail to enjoy the beauty of the snow man & ridicule the kids for their effort.
They are too critical to interpret on either the eyes being too black, or the tummy too big or the nose resembling the male erection etc .
This definitely brings disappointment, scorn or frown on their faces.

And kids without much hangups really enjoyed the process of planning, execution and completion, which brought immense satisfaction and joy of "their" creation.
This definitely brought smiles on their faces. It was like...if the snowman smiled, the kids too smiled.

Post debacle of their showcase, with large disappointment, little Engin returns to reality of life. He is determined to make his snow man smile again.(by reconstructing it)

As a final wrap-up...he teases to know how rich we are by collecting smiles :).
And this balance makes us a good human being; not the millions stashed in our accounts!!

Brilliant concept with subtle hints on how our menial routine have stopped enjoying simple joys of life. Is this pushing the mankind to the brink of few good man/woman?

"If he laughs well, he's a good man" - F. Dostoyevski

PS: Thanks @Vids for promptly sharing it. Enjoyed solving this puzzle :)
Edited by DefLeppard - 7 years ago
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Posted: 7 years ago
Thank you so much Vids for sharing this translation!
Seems like Engin's heart is still stuck in the single-channel era...like mine.
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