Each day, they face each other; the city and the graveyard... The graveyard falls into the city. The gravestones walk between the houses, the minarets, unifies with the visual existance. Here you fall into a picture where life and death are one. When the spaces where life goes on blend with the graveyards and minarets go arm in arm with the mansions and the gravestones are on the same surface, the images are sort of strange. The ones who live in the mansion and the ones whose names are written here, on the tombs make one think. Something about life and death trembles in the memories. The ones in the mansion will come here some day. Is it possible not to come here? This question that has sometimes exhausted the human mind and sometimes was put away in the subconscience, for centuries comes to ones mind in this garveyard where the words go arm in arm. Many has been thought, many has been said about this. But at the end is this place. Sometimes a small identification written on the stones, sometimes a small stone on the head of the grave. In Mardin, "birth, death, life" has always been symbolised... The city is at the back of the picture, the tombs are in front of you. A little close, a little far away... Like the interval between life and death... The time units are so close... Inside the past, even the centuries are so close to each other, aren't they? How the years in life push eachn other. There is a real end; there is an end to everything. Is it the people who were still hungry for the city who chose this place? Gravestones lined o a hill. In the visual accoustic, some are magnificient, some are ordinary stones. There are many things written on the stones; flowers, motifs... The graveyard is looking at the city. Death is looking at life. It is best to put the endless questions in the subconscience. It is best to run into life... There, in the city, in mansions, in the market, in streets are people. It is best to run to them, to look at them, to chat with them, to form visual pictures...