When he tried to define what he heard, it was a small, weak body that he could draw. Ece Derviş bire sounded like he was asking a question. “Where are my hands?” , Where are my arms, where are my legs, if you show me where?, The bees have already stopped spinning around their head and are placed on a branch behind it, but Derviş is caught in the field of seedlings, listening to this sound that continues to chill in his brain, knowing that he is actually calling Zahide for the same even though he could not show his way back, he asked him to ask, “What are you going to do, Dervish?”
Fights, explosions, funerals brought to the village … The love of Suna to the Sea … The great words, the parents who put the heart and soul of the man in the gloom. A sleepless Dervish, spoken Berkin, procedural Alevi folk songs türk The politics of the present, the flames and the endless transgressors Uy
The smell of the mother, the moisture of the soil, the smell of carbonated tea and tobacco, the smell of love; The smell of steam, soap and sweat ın Burn meat, blood and sewage… The Bee Whispers tells the smell of the world.
Menekse Toprak, whispering to the whisper of the bees, tells the talent of life. Emotional, angry and full of love Duy
