Public Story
Meat
The oldest memories from my childhood mostly consist of cold weather, which has shaped my personality and my grandfather. Whenever I think about him, I remember the smell of meat, I’ve loved the smell of meat as far as I can remember. I grew up in a small town in Central Anatolia, our family where known as the Butchers,our last name was BoāŸazlā±yan (Stranglers). My grandfather was a butcher, as where the rest of my family. We had a dark and dingy butcher shop where meats were carved at daily. My childhood memories are of the variety of meats and smells from his fridge. I grew up and left the town. The first dead body I had ever seen was my grandfathers, it was the first time I was afraid of a relatives flesh. Sometimes I picture organs spinning around in my mind. I miss him and I want to send him a message in a way that he would understand. This project is a message that I aim to send to the past.
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