How can one put a country up on stage in which drugged grannies go on television and declare their desire to be the ass hair of their adored head of state? A country in which fathers ask the supreme religious authority for advice about whether their marriages are null and void according to the rules of the faith because they are turned on by the bare flesh of their own daughters? A country in which parents have to keep their children, who've been killed by security forces, in the freezer for days because their houses are being bombarded by their own army.
Can one love Turkey or must one leave it? Or never even enter? Love it or leave it! is looking for answers. It pokes around in the past unashamedly, questions the melancholy hero on the street with curiosity, comforts the winners of the madness full of understanding, sings dusty victory hymns with incorrigible losers and gives all the country's children sickly-sweet pink candy floss in cardboard-sweet pink. In this, the innocence and crimes of the present always remain in focus. Because burying our heads in the sand has always been a dry matter.
Photo: Esra Rotthoff