I grew up in Ankara. When I was six or seven, my grandfather Kenan gave me an electronics kit — components that snapped together into circuits that actually worked. Connect, build, try again. In a way, I never stopped.
My other grandfather, Fethi, once found me reading about remote controls. "Whatever you do," he told me, "build something that lets a car — or something like a car — hang in the air." Today we'd call it a drone. I didn't take it as a job description. I took it as permission to chase ideas that sound strange at first.
Those two gifts — a kit for making things and a reason to aim past the obvious — still shape how I work. Twenty years later I'm still building devices and the software around them, and I still care most about one thing: that what a machine reports is what really happened.