laid eyes on    once akenly recalled about S I remembered. So, t to be. For a dozen years, as I ventured from city to city, I’d , flesible, like a large, shiny cherry.

        aken Srait yle of tian masters, I     sucravels ill your home.

        Meeting S son and speaking lessness peculiar to to murderers and to sinners. An inner voice urged me on, “Be quiow, go and see her.”

        For a ting my E of turally, opened onto taircase—until I found S, I’d been separated from my beloved for to    discreetly, listening to my Eniss t Soucimes.

        ed to me t tao ed in time for tan, Refuge of ted to demonstrate t in tate could make use of tyles of tivities made, tan gra ter miniaturists, ted to sequester t o ead of among t t tine visits to my Enishte.

        “You s or Master Osman,” said my Enis    h.”

        Despite t t my Enis anding of a master illustrator and t t istic expertise at all, rol over an illustrated manuscript. t,    of tan, a situation t, of course, strained ionser Osman.

        ttention to be absorbed by ture and objects ill remembered t and tray, te coffee cups t ugal, as my late aunt ed numerous times. ts, like tand for a turban o t pilloill carried someting in t house.

        Painting aion to my story and my fate to bear t oime, I ented ings. ten t    deeply ied to So adapt optimistically to life and té, no doubt t my love ed, I greard t    I involved myself o love to love te required of me back trating and painting. But as mucive and more fertile first ion to t for S poisoer time to beied; my desire on iigo sputter out and vanisoves of a caravansary, repeatedly dreaming after a nig I o a desolate abyss along ion t I    was furnished by Shekure.

        “ere you a after deato meet s of men and heir beds?”

        “No, I .”

        “e take a long journey after deat afraid of dying.    I fear is dying before I finisan’s book.”

        Part of me felt I ronger, more reasonable and more reliable te, and part of me    of tan t I’d pureet er’s er going doairs, I’d take out of table and ride away.

        I told s to turists. I kissed    it to my foreairs, eyard, and sensi I    t table door, a breeze began to stir. I led my o t of tyard, and    as if rong, large-veined legs, iend ubbornness ered treet, I    to sly mount my steed and disappear doo return again, tish.

        “My brave man, my young ruly as    you be married? ht you be a bachelor?

        ould you deign to buy a silk    lover from Estanbul’s premier peddler of fine cloth?”

        “Nay.”

        “A red saslas silk?”

        “Nay.”

        “Don’t go on piping ”nay‘ at me like t!    like you not    lover? eary-eyed maidens are burning    and so gesture. At time, he skill of a

        magi    of tter to appear i, and as if I’d been training for t for years, I ily and artfully placed it into my sas ter a like fire against tween my belly and back.

        “Ride at an amble,” said Esturn rig t breaking stride, but o te tree turn and look at t left, at to yht.”

        S on ant.

        I mou like a novice doing so for t time. My    ement, my ten o trol t rol of my ructed, my reet!

        It    I felt I migrutales, from beter and every latticed c I mig same fire t    I desired? as I succumbing aartling me.

        e tree? as it tree here?

        Yes! I turned sligo t in my saddle. I sa t wencher!

        Just as I s, tters opened , as if ter tunning face among sno.

        as my dark-eyed beloved looking at me or at anot tell ed in my saddle again, fixing my desirous stare for as long as possible, until , elegant and mysterious face disappeared behe branches.

        Mucer, after opening ter and seeing tration     to    t moment, pictured a times, in ws S melancree

        between us. y, ohose books we so cherish and adore.

        I AM ESt S letter I preseo Black. As ty of mine, I learned everyto knoend you’re flipping back tory a me tell you    letter.

        No’s getting on toired to our    little Je to keep o tove. Pay no mind to my calling myself “old.” ems    to lure to ts and t clot over in Puese s bundle, Estanbul’s a kettle, and treet I don’t visit. t a ter t I    carried from one door to t, and I’ve played matbul, but I didn’t begin tal t. As I aking our ease in t t and ope to discover    idiot slave girl, standing before me. Ster in    tell ement, but srembling as she explained Shekure’s wishes.

        At first, I assumed tter o be taken to ’s ty Surned from the war—if you ask me, he’s long since had his hide pierced.

        ell you see, t o-return soldier- Ster    meant for    for someone else.    did tter say? Esty, and in t.

        But alas,    knoo be , I    and er you’ll never knole me for my meddling—as if you yourselves aren’t as nosy as barbers. I’ll just relate to you ter. t s Sten:

        Black Effendi, you’re a visitor to my o your close relations    don’t expect a nod from me. Muc. I rong and spirited sons. One of t noo ting turn of my tle else ered my ts. I mige of a man, but let no one assume    take advantage of my situation. t erer, I’m also returning ture you painted ao me    yet about    ’s a mistake to believe t one could fall in love gazing at a picture. It’d be best if you stopped ing to our ely.

        My poor So stamp your letter! At ttom of t letter of ened bird. Nothing more.

        I said “seal.” You’re probably ers. But in fact tters aren’t sealed at all. “t Esterate Jeing.” true, I ’t read ten, but I    al ten, I    quite readily “read” t myself.

        fused, are you?

        Let    me    put    it    t    tand:

        A letter doesn’t unicate by ter, just like a book,    be read by smelling it, toud fondling it. telligent folk    tter tells you!”    ten!” Listen, noo w else Shekure said:

        . t tter i, by relying oer-delivery a matter of erd , I’m signifying t I don’t io ceal t muc all.

        . t I’ve folded it up like a Frencry implies secred mystery, true. But tter isn’t sealed and ture enclosed. t implication is, “Pray, keep our secret at all costs,” ation to love tter of rebuke.

        . Furtter firms terpretation. t enougo be ambiguous—did sentionally perfume tter?—yet alluring enougo fire readers’ curiosity—is ttar or to enrapture tter to me, will surely    on Black.

        . I am Esto read nor e, but t and ting seems to say “Alas, I am rusing carelessly and    paying serious attention,”

        tters t tter elegantly as if caugle breeze vey t opposite message. Even    en at t very moment, betrays a ploy no less obvious taken in each line.

        . ture sent along ter depicts pretty S old in tory t even I, Estanbul adore tory, but never o send an illustratioing to it.

        It ime to you fortuerate people: A maiden o read a love letter ster is so surprisiing and disturbing t its o your being privy to    intimate affairs, asraugo read it once more. You read it again. In tter so many times t bot. Before long, sake tter in    statement t    to te places, sill uo make sense of tares at tters of times I am so moved I fet t I myself ’t read or e ao embrace terate maidens o the page.

        truly accursed letter-readers; pray, don’t you turn out to be like one of takes tter in o touc again, desiring to look at it    uanding which words were

        spoken o    are y to do? You ’t read,    to look at?” Some of t eveurreating it    beloo t times, task of accosting trieving tter falls to me, Est’s to your aid as well.

        I, S t eed? ters intuitively at t exaent and stare at e tree? I ’t tell you for sure. I’d sent o Est Black ake t route. Mean-in closet aree to is in t. On a    t moment, I pusters ope flooded tanding at to-face    e lovely.

        ured and,    urned out to be a ely man. Listen S did tell me,    only o    of a c ter e message.

        ture tead of standing straigall before me in a fasting a man and announg t o do t, jump from t or climb onto t t bury ure, ime, ing declaring ured by then.

        ur Black could no longer look into my eyes, as if    ivory- t uo look at me. If I asked ance, “Is t to your liking?”    simply indicate so e smile or nod, as op    to unicate rikiy t siged curtains or ya ely became enamored of me.

        I’m not being a braggart, I’m explaining tand my story ater able to share in my grief.

        In tale of    t Blad I    lengtends to make ryside outing h

        , ing party opped to rest. Beure of t beautiful garden, Sri by love. Many paintings depict t—or “se” as turists ing of Sion and be as she image of hüsrev.

        ure many times and    copies by eyeing ted. After falling in love    time in place of rayed     for tioure imes    indication enougten our names being w and run off.

        co see ion to ion would be.

        I    I    be able to love    summer’s day o cool ourselves s made o    all t Ulu, I told my fat ion of love. At t time, Black    graduated from tauge neig of my fateempting to obtain tronage of teemed Naim Pas acc to my fat yet s about ake pains to    as a clerk to begin, plai    doing muco furt very nigo Blad me, my fat s very    regard for my moter than we’d supposed.”

        I remember    my fat my distance from Blad o visit our    I    explain all of t you’ll dislike my fato you, ions reasonable people immediately se love    anding ts of t, make a quid

        of it by politely declaring, “t find us suitably matc’s just t is.” But, I’ll    my motimes, “At least don’t break t.” Black, y-four, and I     of    insolence,     her’s wishes.

        t fotteime     Istanbul,    ely out of our affes.

        Because    y for years, I deemed it appropriate to save ture oken of our co prevent my fater my soldier-ure aing upset or jealous, I expertly cealed t appear as if someo later to be disguised as flour picture to oday, maybe to take a dim vie.

        o    t t, until I felt the evening air.

        t care reet    ters, Mesrure,    t inopportuimes o told me t a person never knoly imes I’ll say somettering it t it is of my o no sooner do I arrive at t realization te is true.

        I urists my faten io t pretend I    spied on eac missing, muate ”    among t impoveris.

        I closed tters, left t doo t.

        “Mot didn’t listen to you,” Oraking    of table, S left tche peephole.”

        “ of it!” S said, waving .”

        “tle butter and serve it to th marzipan and sugar.”

        Or . But as I airs, t up to me, screaming, pusedly. “Be sloted te backs.

        is to be ly given o a book.

        “Yuest ed,” I said. “I    trouble you much?”

        “On trary,” ertained me. ful as ever of e.”

        “Good.”

        “But now ing.”

        less to observe my rea to close t in a ma made ligongue, as I am    to do. time, t t of Black making ground on e horse, and I shuddered.

        I’m not sure     later in t, Or joined us; tussled o to my bosom a on my breasts.

        “Ainks. I’m going to send you to tomorroh hayriye.”

        “I don’t    to go to t said.

        “oo grown-up?” I said.

        “Mot said.

        I    into t I usually    my skin    and alive. I’d rubbed a bit e onto my c I eve out by lig my palm and rubbing my c my relatives, t

        at t I look more like a sixteen-year-old maiden ty-four-year-old mot her prime?

        Believe truly believe t tell you any more.

        Don’t be surprised t I’m talking to you. For years I’ve bed tures in my fat beauties. t, if feically. Never do tand straigans rated books by careless artists are trained not on tration—o kno’s say a lover oblet—but directly at t t reader.

        I s o time of tamerlane, volumes for ries: Perant lao tory of mine. Isn’t t lies beo be inscribed in t it just for t t sultans and viziers prs of gold to ories ten? , just like tiful side, I, too, long to speak ant time and place. I’m an attractive and intelligent    pleases me t I’m being co tell a lie or time to time, it’s so you don’t e to any false clusions about me.

        Maybe you’ve noticed t my fat God took t me, er. My fates o of    to a spaiced and fancied. If it    to my fat only be test of s for painting and art, be possessed of poy, and be as rien in t even be found in to pine a home forever.

        My ermediates. unity to appear before me as I urning from t as fire, and I immediately fell in love. he was a dark-haired, fair-skinned, green-eyed man

        rong arms; but at ,    and quiet like a sleepy child.

        seemed, to me at least, t ang of blood abttle and amassing booty, even t le and quiet as a lady.

        ter alloo marry me because I teo kill myself oter tary fief en ttle after battle    acts of bravery, truly, everyone envied us.

        Four years ago urn    of t t    first. For ttlefield, t and clever ing opportunities for er spoils, in ing more soldiers of nesses ains er ed from a division of ted a s, but after tomed to anbul, I resigned myself to my fate.

        At nigo quiet tears, I’d tell t so-and-so urn before spring. After found its o me, I’d be t to believe the good news.

        of times. e ed lemanly Abk er    son made une soldiering, returo take up rade at a late age. oms, and as o assume ter, fearing t be able to pay rent, tily took to to t and sold er o do tc to to do tead. I didn’t protest by saying, “Am I type of o take on suc to    her-in-law of mine hasan, now

        o take into    nig knoo do.

        Of course, I could’ve immediately e back o t acc to to anger my in-la not stop at f my y    e us furtained” me, puniso tell truto be more    if I o do t careful t, I migead of his wife.

        In a, because t I ion of tand turn to my fatoo,    eager for a judge’s decision proclaiming my    dead, I naturally couldn’t     marriage, my in-laion of tuation. For lest you fet, I sao all to th me.

        isfied    and decided it ime for me to marry     te for to vi kin, ed ed to declaring my nesses estify t ttle, t    difficult to vince    I    leave tance rigo marry    I’d marry him of my own free will.

        Naturally, I ko gain rust in to sleep ely assured I o    to get o divorce my    because I h him.

        it, I could’ve fallen in love    years you tle brotiment endeared o me. I liked e demeanor, h my

        c me as t and I o force myself to fall in love    mind my o s and bazaars like a on slave. During to my fatared at ts, pans, bos y, .    I could love    tial and mandatory predition for our marriage    itself; and because ed inappropriately. ried to er me, kiss me and fondle me.    my urn, t he would kill me.

        ened me, cried like a baby and in e and fluster, never alloime for a true and noble love to be born. I knew I could never wed him.

        One nigried to force t ely, and    a t t I migen t top of my lungs t evil jinns ered the house.

        t of jinn-panid screaming aed violence ill visible, to ings about jinns, taid old man to    aorutted and ely approac sleep a ill m, keeping c to protect my c “t I’d be returning to my fateay to care for ime of illness; t . I returo my fataking os of my married life to temptation to sell it), t explosive of Arab steeds, tabriz-made ivory c icks (booty from ttle of Na so desperately to keep w.

        As I expected, quitting my absent urned ful love into a     stand beead of tening me,    my pity by sending me love letters in     t I’ve

        retly begun to read tters t reveal ion, of    enlist one of istic or poetic friends to e and embellis letter,    I o     of mo, respectful and one, pounded by ts and demands of ts, turned my o a veritable kettledrum. Indeed, it o o t I’d opeers of t window.

        Before    table, I prepared a draugters from t Arabian date palm flole lemon juice, tly entered my fat myself, placed it before    making my presenown, as he preferred.

        “Is it snoood at o snoher would ever see.

        I AM A tREE    I am a tree and I am quite lonely. I en to are at me as you    jinns a me explain to you why I’m so alone.

        . t I’ve been ily sketonsized, rougure of a tree miger storyteller. true enoug t, trees beside me, no seven-leaf steppe plants, no dark billoions imes resemble Satan or a man and no coiling C t my story is muced.

        . As a tree, I need not be part of a book. As ture of a tree, urbed t I’m not a page . Since I’m not representing somet es to mind is t my picture o a rate t    I secretly take pride in t—but tmost fear and embarrassment.

        . tial reason for my loneliness is t I don’t even kno of a story, but I fell from tum me tell you about it:

        Falling from My Story Like a Leaf Falls in Fall     Forty years ago, tatomans as est patron-king of t of painting, began to gro ry and painting; furt drinking coffee, and naturally, opped ed old geezer, ransferred al from tabriz, ory, to Kazvin so it toman armies. One day ely swore off wine, handsome young boys

        and painti s aste for coffee,    his mind.

        turists, est masterpieces in ty-year period in tabriz, scattered like a covey of partridges to oties.

        Saan Ibraed t gifted among to Mastled turists’    a marvelous illuminated and illustrated manuscript of all seven fables of test poet in    during tamerlane. Saelligent and ted er to    t book and angrily ousted    of Governor of Maso ty of Kain, before sending o to of aors of Maso oties and regions, to ts worksans and princes.

        Miraculously, an Ibra remain unfinised librarian. travel on o S master gilders lived; take a couple pages to Isfa elegant calligrapalik script; afterains till    all to Bukure’s position and    master painter o ission one of its ers to paint from memory ts and leaves; visiting anot,    o inscribe, in gold Rika script, ture; finally, o to Kain, wraveling, an Ibrahim Mirza.

        At t    ted, so mouatar couriers o t leaf, ed text, eacter describing tion to tist. t pages passed over territory and transoxania. tion of t messengers. At times, on a snowy niger    and , for example,

        ruck up a friendly versation, t t and ry to determiive pages, retrieved from tually belonged.

        I    to be among trated manuscript t I sadly ed today. Unfortunately, on a cold er’s day, tatar courier    tatar, tting t, I kno t is t you look at me and ask: “ere you per to provide sed Leyla i?” or “ere you meant to fade into t, representing tced to plement to find sola an island ric! I ed to ss of o quer an as ent nosebleed brougroke. Or    to symbolize trengto o    to add meaning and grace?

        Among taken me ain to mountain and city to city, tood my    to realize t looking at tree is more pleasant t a tree; but because    knoo er dragging me from city to city, t tear me apart and dispose of me as I’d feared , but sold me to a cultivated man in a caravansary for a jug of imes at nigunate delicate-spirited ma me by dleligime, o ter storyteller anbul. No o be onigtoman Sultan’s miraculously inspired, eagle-eyed, iron--ed, sensitive-spirited miniaturists and calligrap to believe tily sketco coarse paper by some master miniaturist as a rop.

        But    ruths are being spread!

        You mig niger ure of a dog ed tures of t; and    time old of tures of     ely misuood tory; target of our at. Could    preaceemed Excellency, ain birth?

        God forbid! ould it    misc a crude lie! Clearly,    of Erzurum is being fused    of Erzurum, so let me proceed to tell you tory of Cross-Eyed    ree.

        Besides denoung tty boys and t of painting, t ai coffee    coffee drinkers o ten ? Let me tell you about it, t s tell anyone, and may Allaect you from baseless slander. One m, I ao find t a giant of a man—God protect all as a mi o togetioned    it like dogs in . , teo ely kissing o it, “Coffee is a sin, coffee is a vice…”

        Accly, ts of coffee, believe not in ts of ion, but in the Devil himself.

        And finally, I sion of Frank painters, so if tes among you o be like terred. Noers depict ts, noblemen and even er gazing upon trait, you’d be able to identify t person o. treets any imagi. As if t enougaken matters even furt mean in regard to pimping, but in regard to painting.

        A great European master miniaturist and anot master artist are uosity and art. As troll, a forest es into vie of to ting in tyle demands sut t if you depicted one

        of trees in t, a man ing could e ly select t tree from among thers.”

        I t I, tree before you,    been draent. And not because I fear t if I’d been ted all tanbul     to be a tree, I    to be its meaning.
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