Remember

People are becoming increasingly lonely. Being alone frees us from responsibilities toward others and perhaps even makes us feel liberated. While this might seem refreshing within the metaphysical approach of the modern world, loneliness—especially in old age—feels frightening to me. Because we need unconditional love; otherwise, the flower within us withers.
So, from whom do we receive this love? From our family. Who will be by our side when we grow old? Our spouse and children. No friend or companion can love us the way our family does. No emotion can replace the happiness we feel when looking at our newborn child. This is a scientific fact. When we are alone, the flower within us dries up, but when we become children again with our own child, that flower is watered once more.
Just when I was about to experience this beauty, I lost it, and the flower within me wilted. That is why my path crossed with Hasan’s in this film. Hasan expresses so much that I cannot put into words; I see myself in him. He could not accept his loss. And so, I decided to tell this story with him.
By making the film in black and white, I wanted to create a timeless atmosphere. Alongside Hasan, I became lost in contrast to the real world and struggled within the surreal world he created. I used Baby Lens to distinguish these two worlds—the real and the imaginary. I emphasized loneliness with a gentle breeze sound, while the scenes with his family—especially his son—were marked by the sounds of birds.
The most beautiful thing is that even if I am no longer here tomorrow, Hatirla (Remember) will continue to live on.