Poet Yusuf returns to his childhood hometown, which he hadn't visited for years, upon his mother's death. A young girl, Ayla awaits him in a crumbling house. Yusuf has been unaware of the existence of this distant relation who had been living with his mother for five years.
Ayla has something to ask of Yusuf . Yusuf is obliged to perform the sacrifice his mother Zehra had been prevented by death from fulfilling. Yusuf agrees as he finds himself unable to withstand the passive rhythm of rural life, the spaces imbued with the ghosts and personages of old lovers and friends, nor against the overriding feeling of guilt.
Yusuf and Ayla set off for the saint's tomb, some three or four hours away, for the traditional sacrifice ceremony. Unable to locate the herd amongst which the sacrificial animal was to be selected, they have to spend the night in a hotel by the crater lake. Yusuf and Ayla are drawn closer together by the atmosphere of the wedding party at the hotel.
While the falling snow blankets guilt, the place to which they are returning will no longer be that old town.
I intend to begin the shooting with Egg, the third chronological story in the trilogy to be titled Honey, Milk and Egg. The films will be shown in reverse order, i.e, as Egg, Milk and Honey.
What I'm looking at here is a longish cinematographic flash-back. All three films take place in that present time.
I hope in this way to narrate the burden and pain of passing time so that I may be able to invite everyone to remember and think about his own time. We all have mothers and it is highly possible that much is hidden in the time we spent with our mothers, and the time we are no longer able to spend with them.
I am of the view that time is the raw material of cinema. The time, space, and-therefore--the persona itself of Yusuf, the protagonist of Egg, is evidenced within the cinematographic boundaries as delineated by Bresson, Tarkovski, Satyajit Ray and Ozu.
For me, film-making is an entirely metaphysical and philosophical endeavor.