Poet of the Elephant House (2010)

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My grandfather’s home is filled with words, books, poetry, photos, chemicals, press cuttings, letters, cameras. He was born in Istanbul, Turkey, but because of his love to my grandmother, whom he met in Paris, he ended up in Stockholm. He still lives here, in the same suburban apartment that he’s lived in for more than 50 years. At first, it was his pictures that made me curious about his life. He hade taken photos of all these famous writers, poets, artists – the artistic avant gardewho intruiged me so intensly when I was in my late teens. When I searched more deeply, I found the language. My grandfather’s love for language and poetry. And I recognized parts of my self in the things he told.