At some point in my childhood I started hoarding objects. I had no plan or system; I kept whatever I could keep. And I felt it that it was very important. At first it wasn't all that much: a few gifts and findings, but over time the collection grew so much that I was forced to adopt some sort of a system. Each year I would spread out all the elements of the collection and quote a detailed origin story of each item, and if I couldn’t remember it, I would throw the item away. I was also given a large plastic yellow bowl with an unusual hexagonal shape, called a box for some reason, for storing the collection. It was a good system. By the time I was a teenager, I had thrown away very few things, and then I abandoned the verification element of the system. Slowly, I became engaged in other matters and I stopped collecting items with such devotion. I still have the yellow box at hand today and I can still tell you the origins of each of the items at random.

Dark clouds are hanging over Şeküre. The opening night is still uncertain, and so are several aspects of the work already done and yet to be done. It took away my enthusiasm for acting for a moment, but luckily that moment was short-lived. What is meant to be – it will be; and what is meant not to be – it will not be. And what is meant to be, it already happened. In any case, I am running on; I’m not trying to go against the nature of all things.

I'm getting down to something between a drama and a song cycle. It remains to be seen what exactly it will become. Marcin Wicha wrote a text. That text’s form is still taking shape. But I can see this and that clearly enough already. 

(transl. Magdalena Małek-Andrzejowska)