The First and the Last Egg

When Safo had arrived into her new place she was the youngest among others. While giving her to me, Kemal had said “ This is a sussex. One of the most productive ones. When you go home you can look at it from the internet”. He generally finishes his words with this, like a certification when he sells poultry.

Safo’s new location was under a grape-vine, located at the skirts of Goose Mountain where known as the place chosen by Gods and Goddess, covered with olive oil, fig and pinus pinea forests which go along the Aegean Sea. When it is looked at from the Zeus Altar; the Edremit Bay is seen like the wings of an eagle which gives the sense of a celestial landscape which may explain why this place is chosen by the Gods.

And when you look closer to hundred years of old immortal Olive trees, each and every one of them having peculiar shapes and forms – different from other trees- may give you the feeling that they are trying to tell you the stories they witnessed…

A couple of months had passed with some routine. On a pleasant September evening, the sunset was giving glamorous lights through the leaves of the grape-vine and most of the sparrows had already left the poultry yard.

When I got into the poultry yard there was a small surprise in the nesting box. Together with three eggs of lohmans (another productive kind of chicken), there was a very small shining tiny one. This should have been Safo’s egg and her first one… When I had found the first egg of Safo the feeling was like to contemplate a finished painting just as a new born baby.

It was like a reminder of a miracle cross section of life and feeling the beauty of it. It was coded with all the necessary details; no more, no less. It gave me the sense of a moment; eternal and infinite; which drove me making it a part of the art, instead of cooking a delicious omelette (good idea by the way). In fact, the displayed painting based on an egg explains the meaning better.

A couple of years had passed after Safo’s first egg. She was getting older and consequently the shape of eggs getting deformed. When I asked an expert he explained this with the loss of mussels strength.

One day I woke up to a dark grey morning which was quite rare. I went to the poultry yard for feeding. I had seen Brave (the cock) and the other lohmans but not Safo. I had checked my memory and realised that I had not seen her yesterday evening also. Then I had started looking after for her. When I looked at the inside, I faced the cold reality of life that there was limited time to be alive. I looked at the nest and with completely different feelings from the first egg; I saw the last egg of Safo which was deformed. I had stayed there for sometime thinking about the lifespan of Safo. The process and the time frame between the first and last egg was like the duration between first and last breath and this was the dance of life.

Borning to life was more certain and substantial than passing away. Because of this, I have used more certain lines and brighter color with the first egg. Nevertheless, nothing could change the formidable excitement and the beauty of this temporary stage of delicate illusion, called as life…

While the dark clouds had been leaving, the sun came over again by warming the garden; the birds were singing; the balms were smelling around and two white butterflies were flying over the flowers like dancing together with gentle melodies of life as if only they heard it…Kenan K.