It was on the evening of 22nd January, two days after Taner Baybars had died, that I received the news of his death by phone. I had been waiting for it. But, then again, I did not expect it so soon. He was 73 years old. He was a poet who had closed the ‘gap’ between his life and his art. At our last meeting, although he did not openly speak of it, he had known that he was dying; it had been obvious from his words and his preparations. Still, the news of a death is such that it catches you off-guard every time. Pushing you to hold on tightly to your memories, to write whatever memories you have of that person, to protect and preserve them. Maybe, this friend’s death brings you once again face to face with your own mortality; his death gives meaning to your own life.
Genc, Gur, Last Meeting with Taner Baybars, Kunapipi, 33(1), 2011.