Noris Cocci Photo

Noris Cocci Photo Visual Activist

There are always silent observers. Sometimes they have plastic eyes and glossy skin, other times they stand still above ...
08/07/2025

There are always silent observers. Sometimes they have plastic eyes and glossy skin, other times they stand still above the city. Istanbul welcomes them all real and imagined in a theatre that never lowers its curtain.



A gaze, as if it were East and West. No words needed when two presences face each other at sunset: light alone is enough...
07/07/2025

A gaze, as if it were East and West. No words needed when two presences face each other at sunset: light alone is enough to divide and unite like the Bosphorus between the shores of the soul.



The city sleeps on the surface. But behind closed eyelids, the story pulses. Istanbul rests, but doesn’t fall silent: it...
06/07/2025

The city sleeps on the surface. But behind closed eyelids, the story pulses. Istanbul rests, but doesn’t fall silent: it breathes in slow gestures, shared silences, and afternoons that taste of eternity.



The sunlight passing through the tea reveals what Istanbul draws out: light, waiting, depth. A simple gesture turned epi...
05/07/2025

The sunlight passing through the tea reveals what Istanbul draws out: light, waiting, depth. A simple gesture turned epiphany. In this crimson transparency, everything lets itself be seen without ever fully revealing.



On the Bosphorus, like drifting souls. Reflections, lost gazes, silhouettes in backlight: Istanbul isn’t crossed, it’s i...
04/07/2025

On the Bosphorus, like drifting souls. Reflections, lost gazes, silhouettes in backlight: Istanbul isn’t crossed, it’s inhabited for a fleeting moment. Each window is a threshold between worlds that don’t touch, but know each other.



Sometimes it feels like being on a movie set. But in Istanbul, the line between reality and fiction is as thin as a blur...
03/07/2025

Sometimes it feels like being on a movie set. But in Istanbul, the line between reality and fiction is as thin as a blurred frame. Elegance, waiting, glances and time refusing to reveal itself.



Human and creation merge. The floral veil and Ottoman tiles speak to each other like distorted mirrors: identity, art, a...
02/07/2025

Human and creation merge. The floral veil and Ottoman tiles speak to each other like distorted mirrors: identity, art, and tradition blending, chasing, entangling in the silence of time.



Prayer: a moment of profound spirituality, rooted in the carpet and the air. No noise is needed only breath. In Istanbul...
01/07/2025

Prayer: a moment of profound spirituality, rooted in the carpet and the air. No noise is needed only breath. In Istanbul, even the light kneels in silence.



Istanbul and its hidden side. Where water keeps ancient secrets, columns cast pagan gods, and faces blur like dreams upo...
30/06/2025

Istanbul and its hidden side. Where water keeps ancient secrets, columns cast pagan gods, and faces blur like dreams upon waking. Here, the city doesn’t reveal — it whispers.



Tea is the blood of Istanbul. It flows everywhere — warm and slow — through hands, alleys, and timeworn steps. It’s more...
29/06/2025

Tea is the blood of Istanbul. It flows everywhere — warm and slow — through hands, alleys, and timeworn steps. It’s more than a drink: it’s waiting, it’s words, it’s a glance left hanging in the air.



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