Aus den Strassen Istanbuls wuchsen Verse, und aus den Versen wurden Lieder. Katzen schleichen durch die Daemmerung wie fluechtige Reime, waehrend auf der Istiklal die Stimmen ineinanderfliessen wie ein Chor der Sehnsucht. In Balat blaettern die Fassaden in Farben, die Geschichten atmen, und zwischen ihnen klingen die Schritte der Muellsammler wie heimliche Percussion im Herzschlag der Stadt. So formte sich ein Album, geboren aus Gedichten, das Istanbul nicht beschreibt, sondern umarmt: eine Liebeserklaerung an die Stadt, die in jedem Ton, in jeder Strophe weiterlebt – widerspruechlich, unruhig, leuchtend, unvergänglich.

From the streets of Istanbul grew verses, and from the verses songs were born. Cats wander through the twilight like fleeting rhymes, while on Istiklal the voices flow into one another like a choir of longing. In Balat, the facades turn their pages in colors that breathe stories, and among them the footsteps of the waste collectors resound like a secret percussion in the city’s heartbeat. Thus an album was shaped, born of poems, that does not describe Istanbul but embraces it: a love letter to the city, living on in every note, in every line – contradictory, restless, radiant, everlasting.

Istanbul’un sokaklarindan dizeler filizlendi, dizelerden sarkilar dogdu. Kediler, akssam karanliginda kacici dizeler gibi dolassirken, Istiklal’de sesler birbirine karissiyor, hasretin korosu gibi yankilaniyor. Balat’ta cepheler, hikaye soluyan renklerle sayfalarini acar, aralarinda cop toplayicilarinin adimlari sehrin kalp atisinda gizli bir perküsyon gibi tinar. Boylece siirlerden dogan bir album sekillendi; Istanbul’u anlatmayan, kucaklayan: her notada, her dizede yasayan bir sevda mektubu – celiskili, huzursuz, parildayan, sonsuz.