When you walk sweating under the summer heat in narrow streets, suddenly you meet "abbara"; it carries the coolness in life. "Abbara" is a natural air-conditioning. The hot air, becomes ice cold and wraps your body in this magical passage under the dwellings. You don't need to wander, "abbaras" show you the way to go to the back streets. The Mardin city settled on the golden slope, utilizes every piece of land functionally. You can easily pass from one street to the other under the dwellings.

     Eac time I entered an "abbara", I put my camera under a wall and leaned my back against the historical stones and listened to the dis­course of "abbara". When my body was fascinated by the coolness, I have listened to so many love stories. The macho young boy, streching his body like a bow and waiting, his eyes on the dark colours, stones and the results...

And what about life? It is right over you. The ones on the top step on the ones in "abbara". The windows carry the evening light into the street. The dustman of the narrow streets is so used to the deep of the street. He waves his broom with the pleasure of the coolness. Even the donkeys which have carried the leftovers of these streets don't want to leave the coolness of the "abbara". The yellow light of the electric lamp has fallen on the dark blue light of the evening. While I was trying to shoot the "abbara" and the ones passing by in the evening, someone on the top invited me and my spouse to her house. We entered the house, motifs were encraved on the stone windows, caligraph were on the walls. He offered us some Mardin soup. We could easily feel the sadness in the lines on the face of this sincere women full of human love. She showed us the photograph of her son in the domed room. She was the mother of a martyr. Sorrow was in her eyes but there was pride in her words.

       The night spent with the mother of the martyr was strange. We walked out, with the taste of the soup in our months and the sorrow of the martyr's mother in our hearts.