A mother and daughter appeared in the distance... A very bright day... At the back of them are houses of Oguz Village, on my side is the bridge and the prison is a little far away. The dim light of the prison has tired my eyes. It was though as the mother and daughter wrapped in the light of the sun have set a drama stage in front of me. The stage of the moment... They are getting out of the car. The neighbours at the door are looking at the ones who just came. Right far away, someone at a door is watching the scene. It is obvious that they are back from the filelds. Or they have been collecting dried cow dug for fuel. They have come and sat in the middle of the objective. There is a lot of light, the objects are shining. My heart was in trouble in the prison. Centuries ago, human beings have built the prison. They have taken people from life and thrown them into the dark... The magnifigence of the prison has surprised me. How could the human beings build this prison in the 5th century? Really, how could they build the bridge down there? They carved water cisterns in the rocks back at the 5th century... They carved the rocks and made houses. They carved the rocks and made churches. Over there, they moved the water from one bank to the other by channels... A few minutes ago, I have stepped the ruins of the magnificent works of the 5th century, now the life of the moment is falling right in front of me. Do the civilizations sometimes go back? Why is it that new stones aren't put on the wall of development? Sometimes, stones fall down from the wall...

        The magnificence of the works is on the remaining ones. The life of the moment is in front of me... Mother and daughter smile. They are preparing to empty their bags. The sun is burning bright.
         At the back are the houses on top of each other. The neighbours are look­ing at the ones who just came. The works are looking to the village. The village is looking at the bridge, the cistern, the prison. The human being is thinking about the traces reaching from the 5th century to present. The past is in the traces, the living is here. On the stage created by the mother and daughter returning from the fields by a cart.
         Perhaps, there were more beautiful carts in the 5th century. Olive trees line on the other bank. Lines of trees, all green. The prison lean against the olive trees. The bridge is a little down. Life is in front of me. In Dara, Mardin.