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[kirazsoral]

Demet Özdemir for Part Magazine

[kirazsoral]

Rosario Castellanos, tr. by Julian Palley, from Meditation on the Threshold: A Bilingual Anthology of Poetry; “Monologue of a foreign woman”

[kirazsoral]

        A YEAR AFTER THE ACCIDENT that caused her to become a medium, Kiraz made it very clear as the spirits made themselves known that she didn't have the time to look after lost souls plus a new child while looking for a steady job. She simply didn't have it in her. And it stayed that way for a long time. As the years passed, Kiraz developed the ability to ignore spirits with ease, solely focusing on the life she was building. That's why it had been a surprise when the spirit first visited Kiraz at two in the morning while the single mother was midnight snacking.

Arriving at the location that spirit gave, Kiraz notices that other person on the bench, but doesn't give them a second glance, figuring they've come to this point on their own accord, and thus, it was their own business. Leaning against the back of the bench, Kiraz crosses one leg over the other comfortably before taking out her phone and for the time being, looking through her schedule. There was silence, but it wasn't long before Kiraz felt the familiar chill crawling up her arms and to the back of her neck when a spirit decides to let itself be known. The realization that the other person can also see the spirit keeps her silent. For only a short moment though, confusion clouds her thoughts as she looks from the stranger to the spirit.

Tossing her phone into her purse, now getting an understanding to what's going on, she gets to her feet. ❛ Both of us? ❜ Kiraz can't help but repeat in a surprised tone. She's never heard of a spirit requesting the aid of two mediums. Then again, it's not like she's been communicating with the spirits on a daily basis. ❛ Şaka yapıyor olmalısın! Neden iki medyuma ihtiyacın var, ha? ( you have to be kidding me! what makes you need two mediums, huh? ) Unglaublich! ( unbelievable! ) ❜ With a pondering sigh and then shaking her head in disbelief, dark hues are cast toward the shimmering spirit who looks back with hollow eyes and a deep frown. ❛ Don't. Don't look at me like that, ❜ She warns the spirit before settling her sights back on the stranger with a slightly more friendly look, though the annoyance she feels is still etched into her features. ❛ Hi, uh, ... Well. I'm Kiraz. ❜

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 ›› 𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐍

— setting: little deer creek ; mid-day — availability: closed for kiraz soral | ( @kirazsoral )

jaiden cracked their neck as they leaned forward, resting their arms on their knees. this particular soul had been especially nice, requesting they'd meet outside, instead of simply demanding they would do something for said soul, or simply pestering them, like some had in the past. they had been hearing voices and taking a stroll around with death for quite some time and some days were easier than others. sometimes, it simply meant the voices weren't inside their head and that they weren't alone in this world.

someone approached the bench and jaiden scooched to the side so the other could sit. there was a moment of silence and then someone else manifested close to the duo. it took them an extra heartbeat, but they realized the other could also see this soul. "wait... you want both of our help? is it really that hard dealing with your family?"

[kirazsoral]

friday, march 3rd, 2023. 4.55pm   ─ at nana's kitchen, open to everyone.

        THE EXTERIOR OF THIS FIFTIES DINER IS HOMEY AND QUAINT ; inside, one is going to be welcomed by the warm atmosphere. The tone of the cafe gives the guest a very calming and comfortable feeling with different blends of brown and tan, paired with bright red and sparkly retro chairs gives a very southern feel to it. Its walls are covered in vintage paintings and old ─ town pictures that add a very family ─ like environment which is the perfect blend for Kiraz to bring Serkan. The both of them love coming to Nana's Kitchen. They ended up loving this little diner so much that they ended up incorporating eating at the diner into their schedule. For the past five years every Friday after picking up Serkan from school, the mother and son due have indulged themselves in the diner's food that allows its guests to feel right at home.

And, maybe, a little too comfortable. ❛ Serkan, really? ❜ A sigh of defeat escapes from the mother's lips as she watches her child take the biggest mouthful he could shovel into his mouth causing a mess both on the plate and his face. ❛ Sorry to bug you, ❜ Kiraz begins while turning to the person who is occupying a nearby table. ❛ Do you have any extra napkins over there? I did have an abundance over here. That was until this gremlin ordered the chicken and waffles with extra syrup. ❜ She takes a glance back at Serkan just in time to watch him take another bite that polishes off his plate. ❛ ... As you can probably, he hasn't been taught any manners. ❜

[kirazsoral]

[kirazsoral]

        THE BEAT VIBRATES OFF THE WALLS as you enter the admission doors ; the crowd is out in force and ready to party. The drinks are flowing across the tables just as fast as the bartenders can make them, conversations are loud, and are struggling to hear over the thumping music and the dance floor is filled with sweaty bodies swaying to the beat. To the naked eye, this is the makings of success. However, the manager of the club knows that it takes and has taken long hours and deep pockets to get the club to this point, and she plans on keeping it that way. So, Kiraz works hard ─ harder at any other job she's been at. For Jae, for herself, but mostly for the most important person in her life, her son. Dark hues are trained on the lastest iPhone, shiny and new. Meanwhile, perfectly tailored gel nails tap away at the screen, texting whoever she needed to text. Making a short stop at the bar to get out of someone's way, she comfortably places forearms against the top of the counter and leans forward, continuing to send message after message until she felt someone turn ane being to speak to her. Without looking from her cell, Kiraz answers with. ❛ No, you can't. ❜ In the six years of being at Purgatory, the managers have never allowed a customer to buy her a drink. A beat or two goes by and affter sending off one more text, it's Kiraz's turn to face the stranger ❛ But I can buy you one, ❜ she grins with kindness and mischief that many of the regulars at Purgatory have become used to. Throwing up a hand to get the bartender's attention and when she does, Kiraz gives them a wink as a signal to get something started for herself and the beautiful woman who has undoubtedly caught her attention. ❛ Are you here alone? ❜

LOCATION: whatever bar / club suits your muse. STATUS: open (@tsstarters)

It was supposed to be a night off, but Gabrielle had rarely taken one of those in well over a decade. It was triggered by checking instagram, when an account she didn't follow messaged her: her brothers wife, she figured from the quick scan of the woman's completely open profile. They had welcomed a child, she was an aunt. The woman was trying to bridge gaps, she had explained, but she knew that her brother wasn't the cause of her messages. He couldn't have been. It was the photo of her father with her nephew that caused her to go out where she could distract herself, and so she found herself drinking a glass of wine at the bar whilst trying to ignore the phone that weighed so heavy in her pocket. Needing a distraction she turned to the first person she saw, "Can I buy you a drink?"

[kirazsoral]

        IF THERE WAS ANYTHING that Kiraz learned while she was just starting out at Purgatory, it was that keeping up with appearances was crucial. But, several years ago, and due to her circumstances, she didn't have the means or the time. She's come a long way from ripped jeans that were a size too big or a sweater she thrifted several years ago that had lost its colour and threads were popping out. Thick hair was oily and unwashed. Kiraz leans against the counter, pushing a medium black coffee towards him. ❛ Ryder, baby, I don't even get a ‘ hi, kiraz! wow, what a cute shirt, and can i mention you're absolutely glowing! ’ or something along those lines. ❜ Kiraz plays up a pout while shrugging off her fitted blazer and drapes it over her usual chair. ❛ I'll be getting a fill and a new design. I still love the light lavender colour but, there's something missing? I need a little more ─ umph. ❜ Sitting in the chair one leg crosses over the other. ❛ I'm thinking of a few sparkles, a diamond or two. ❜

The scratch of the nail file against the acrylics on his own hand were soft, articulate and filled with precision. He'd been doing this for many years before coming to Everwood, wanting to have sharp nails to keep himself safe. Sure, his ex hated it, but this is why he fully embraced it now. Weapons, that's what they were.

Hearing the bell ring gently at the door of Beautello, he looked over with a smile and a slight wiggle of his fingers as a wave. He stood up, walking over to the host counter and smirked. "How can we make you stunning today?"

[kirazsoral]

sweet or savory?

sweet or savory?

        ❛ SWEET. ALWAYS SWEET. ❜ As someone who carried around a few lollipops or some sort of hard candy in her purse, it's safe to assume that Kiraz's taste leaned toward anything with a hefty amount of sugar. ❛ I've always loved food pairings with sugar or honey. It's why we're ─ Serkan and myself ─ always at Sugar & Spice, or Nana's Kitchen Have you ever tried their homemade ice cream over at Nana's? All the ingredients are local, and it tastes fucking delectable. ❜ Kiraz stops for a moment, glossed lips parting though she hesitates before continuing ( always thinking twice about mentioning anything having to do before coming to everwood ). ❛ ... When I was in Turkey, there was this little hole ─ in ─ the ─ wall bakery around the corner from where I lived, ❜ The orphanage. Kiraz doesn't particularly enjoy talking about her past. There were too many mistakes that had been made and too many bittersweet memories. ❛ The best ─ seller was this golden ─ colored delicacy called Tulumba. Think about the juiciest doughnut you’ve ever eaten, okay? And now imagine it deep-fried in oil before being bathed with sweet syrup. ❜ Her mouth waters as she remembers how the scent would linger in the air. Of oil, fried dough, and sweet syrup. ❛ You didn't ask, but that's definitely where my sweet tooth began, which is just as important. ❜

[kirazsoral]

ask memes !!

𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝙾𝙵 𝙺𝙸𝚁𝙰𝚉 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙰𝙻.

[kirazsoral]

When I was little, I could sit for hours looking out the window. It could be because of a certain kind of music, or because it was dusk, or a certain slant of the light. There was a sensation in my chest, a churning. I couldn't put words to it then. But it was a knowledge that there was something out there. That there was a hole in the world. And a longing to go there. I still have that longing, but it doesn't overwhelm me like it used to. Until now. There's something about the light here that makes the longing bloom.

– Karin Tidbeck, from “Some Letters for Ove Lindström,” Jagannath: Stories (Cheeky Frawg Books, 2012)

[kirazsoral]

DYNASTY Something Desperate

[kirazsoral]

DEMET ÖZDEMIR L’Officiel Tukey, 2022.

[kirazsoral]

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐙 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋 ! ⸺ 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚞 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕, 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜?

google doc.

𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐇𝐐.

[kirazsoral]

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 !