Veyda A
Veyda A, based in Istanbul, is a researcher, writer, and artist whose work centers particularly around the concept of meaning. Xeir writing moves through inner noise, fatigue, and the unstable boundaries of meaning, often tracing how thought dissolves before it can fully take shape. Drawing largely from xeir personal experiences, xe gives space to voices that persist despite exhaustion. Having studied philosophy, Veyda A continues to engage with questions surrounding language, perception, and the limits of expression. Xeir texts often remain within uncertainty, inviting readers into spaces where coherence breaks down, and new forms of articulation begin to emerge.
Let’s Play A Little Game
People here and people there. Keep murmuring in my head. Words follow each other, crumble into sentences, and fade out. I feel tired all the time. Thinking, I don’t have enough energy, and I won’t go so far. So I gave up on writing, on dreaming, on living. The eyedrops that ran away from my eyes got stuck in my throat. I have all those voices talking, wanting me to step forward. Yet there is this one keep askin “why?”. I’ve been asking “why not?”. Assume I lost the negative part on the way around. Turned the corner today, lost my chance to pray for something else. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest. Talk a bit, a bit more in my head. Didn’t know how to act, as if I ever knew it beforehand. Laugh a lot, nearly regret all the things I said. That’s how the day ended. Breathe in and breathe out. There were rumours that humans have non-conscious beliefs they had. Couldn’t understand when I heard and didn’t when I read. All those voices in my head, I hardly remember the last time something beautiful they said. Remember the days we had, spent dancing and chatting till the sunset. And the sun will always rise before we lie our bodies on the bed. There were daydreams as well as night ones. Like destinies folding and legends spread around. I had beliefs when I was naive; I lost them all when my nose filled with lies that let me leave. You know I have stories to tell, likewise all of u around. I would never like to unfold those heavy boxes, yet I am willing to open them all that yours. I like to hear, I like to follow, just how I really like to obscure every one of them under the floor. Then u may ask who has been speaking so far? I would gently roll my eyes from up to above. Maybe carrying a little tiny smile, moving feet, and a non-existent brain in the tank. I would ask back, who has not been speaking so far, could u tell me that?
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