Sevda Khatamian | Blog
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Morning People: Reality That Happened, or Not.

Recently, I released my second memoir, ‘Morning People’. It was a long, and even a hard process. But it’s published now, and I say, out loud and proud that the book exists on CreateSpace and Amazon. Although I haven’t had the chance to order it myself yet, a couple of friends were kind enough to purchase it and support me. Independent artists need support more than anything else you may think of.

The idea of this book started when I first moved to the city, to live with my friends, to experience life in a massive gigantic city and give myself the opportunity to grow and learn. I was still working on my first memoir, ‘That Year’, which was the story of one year of my life in my apartment, how I gradually got to know my flat. I also talked about incidents and funny misfortunes that happened throughout that one year of my life. Just as the life in the endless city began, I started to notice how different it was all going to be. And I felt the urge, and craved writing. And so I wrote. I was a bit busy at the time, so I took my notes and pictures. They were sometimes drops of reminders to take me to the past.READ MORE

Lazy Letter: Queen Hekla

It was all very foggy and cloudy at first. This has been the wettest winter we ever had, Annamaria described their winter as she was giving me a ride to Gullkistan. That was so nice of her. She gave me a general information about the area that I was going to reside for the next forty-five days. There’s a national park between my place and the airport. It’s about an hour away. We passed the forest. Forest of bushes. Bjök, they can grow up to five meters. There’s actually an insight joke, I’ll tell you about it later. Not exactly what I call a forest. You should’ve seen forests of Haihatus, oh.


Lazy Letter: Riding on an Airplane

I found my seat. I got the window seat. You know that I usually ask the counter guy for a window seat, but this time it was a self-check-in in one of those machines; I was lucky.

Hi, I said to the man taking the seat next to mine. He was a man in his fifties or early sixties. He was tall. I could tell he was one of those tall people before he even stood up. Broad shoulders and long arms. Do you need a hand with your bag? He asked politely. His accent revealed his nationality. Which city, I wondered.


Lazy Letter: Hitchhike

I was standing on the side of the road. It was the second ride I was supposed to take. My right arm felt a bit sore. I had already kept my arm up for more than half an hour, and I had to do it again. Maybe longer this time. The second ride seemed to be more fun; it wasn’t the highway, just a narrow road. A long path to the villages and farms and valleys. I was alone.


Kids are odd

Curious and bizarre

Being new to this world maybe

Gives them another feel and touch

Things don’t make sense as much


Walls no different than a plain paper

Once it’s done you can’t stop them any further

All the things that we didn’t know

But learned, not very far from along ago