urned    nigo act like my motered myself in my room and lay on my mattress, giving myself over to visions of Shekure.

        Allo of describing te’s

        after tain of being, someinually under cure inually able to see ter able to uand Ibn Arabi’s notion t love is ty to make to feel t.

        I could i Sinually g to to ts    one point, I ely certain s room, eroom; I could ried to quiet tures, tening glances and knit brourally, not as one urbing someone’s ritual prayers, but affectedly, as one ing in a fit of laughter.

        Anotime, as to me t and s and Orered tures obviously reray and served us coffee. t soon bee t to S: “ nice eyes you ely turo     gro, I placed a faded red atioal, o tray and kissed eacer still, I er and giggling from hin.

        Frequently, I greo kn at a crack, knot or ook to be a uated just be. Suddenly, suspeg anot, and to determi toand up. Affeg all ttentive disciple, quite ente lost in t, in order to demonstrate ent I    suspicious black spot on the wall.

        o find Sing in o be a peepment, and trange feeling of loneliness, by tience of a man uain ur.

        No and intense feeling t Scely vinced I    I’d start posing like a man trying ter and more capable to impress ter, I’d fantasize t Sy of famous Veian illustrator about ece . I loo be like these newly

        famed painters solely because S trators yrdom in cells like saints, or ty arm and a sar, as t absent    on at of a manuscript transcribed or a page ted. I tried very o imagi pictures created by ted illustrators, ery and its visible blaess. I tried so o visualize terpieces my Eing to describe to one    only more dejected and demeaned.

        I looked up to discover t S    male    Arab tribes in transoxiana and among Circassian tribes in tains—t    only kiss a guest’s    t, but also    left. Cauged my o kiss. At t moment, from someoo far aered and to remedy tuation, I grabbed S and kissed    ed of me. t my Eniso apologize for interrupting o assure    I meant no disrespect, ime I uood t to my urned aohe door.

        I clutc like a je te from S of elation I could scarcely keep from grinning stupidly at my Enis t Sely desired me? Suddenly, I imagined us engaged in a mad frenzy of lovemaking. So profoundly vi I’d jured    t my manely began to rise—te. ently on    my tration.

        Mucer, o srated plate from ly unfolded te,    s it pletely blank. I couldn’t believe my eyes and senselessly tur.

        “A ec is t you are holding?”

        “It’s note Effendi,” I said.    to my nose and deeply ins st.

        After an afternoon meal, as I did not    to use my Enis, I excused myself and    to t ter cold. I o my     freezing my buttocks too muc S ly appeared before me, blog my he

        outer me aied t. ed and fixed ty eyes on mine as    ill y pot.

        “?” ly like cters ed sed-floor window in w seen Ser so many years.

        “Nay.”

        “S in the hanged Jew?”

        out to treet    ing for my response. I folloy paces along tering an u garden.    smelled of    and rotting leaves, and faintly of mold. itaking firm, reps, ered tood before us almost rees.

        tely empty, but it here.

        “his?” I asked.

        “t to ter over by t-sellers’ quay. t into a er of turned. ”t’s go’s disappeared,“ he said.

        “ go?”

        “My grandfathe dead wander.”

        “Not ts wander.”

        “ tig his lap in all seriousness.

        “I just know. Do you always e here?”

        “My mot nig I’m not afraid of this place. have you ever killed a man?”

        “Yes.”

        “how many?”

        “Not many. two.”

        “ith a sword?”

        “ith a sword.”

        “Do their souls wander?”

        “I don’t knoo ten in books, t wander.”

        “Uncle ’s so s’ll cut you if you just toud udded her?”

        I nodded indig    your father is dead?”

        “My moterday.    be returning. She saw him in her dream.”

        If presented unity, er goal o do for t t burns    breaks our s; and so, I resolved once more to bee turo tened more ily to S’s grandfatext and illustrations I o plete.

        Let me begin rations t my Enisy; even so, I couldn’t say it ing of a    it    t tepped off to tyle. tely apparent from ts of nobility: Maybe, a man    t to appear beside teed.

        It    Eniser illustrator rator, arriving at nigencil—only if it ension of a story, t’s exactly e. As imes in ses of love and ers, ructed trator; for example,     about tree t dra in the background, on a smaller scale.”

        trator, e, eagerly draure t didn’t resemble any of to

        s ce, after a or could no longer determiion eo ene.    my Enised of me    I examirations made in ian, e a story suitable to apany te page. If I o get Sely o e tories, but all t came to mind ories toryteller told at the coffeehouse.

        I ILL BE CALLED A MURDERERtig aold me it    to be called, but long before, I’d lit ting beside my folding able. I quickly pleted dra from memory, o black ed it over    to treet as it did every niged. I ermined not to go, but to stay at ried nailing my door s for a time.

        tily pleting erpreter and guide, tuttered, ed me doraveler ed a “book of es” and engaged me in a bout of vicious bargaining.    m upon a lesser-quality book of es for a price of ty silver pieces, I proceeded to illustrate a dozen Istanbulites in a siting around time of ticular attention to tail of tfits. I dreioners in t of torture sold quite . I’d done so many of t to earn a fera silver pieces t I began to i games for myself to figo dra lifting my pen off to drah my eyes closed.

        All brigands, poets and men of stant sorro ed and rebellious, urging in unision: “Out! Outside!” tless inner voice demands, “Seek t my time appeasing ted pictures,    for seven days noer dusk, since I murdered t disgrace, I’m no longer able to trol t I tell myself t calm do for a while.

        After saying so, as al ks, muddy passages, icy slopes aed sideop. As I o t, into t remote and abandoned parts of ty, I’d ever so gradually leave my soul bereets, my

        footsteps ee inns, schools and mosques, my fears would subside.

        Of t brougo treets of tskirts of ty,     t    ill-omened, but I don’t believe sucition. tragedy t er on at of ty years ago because it ed of he enemy.

        I meandered berees,    idiousness, I straigs dilapidated sters. I entered and dre of one-o my lungs. It made me so blissful to be    tears would fall from my eyes.

        If I    already said so, I’d like to say t I fear not Alla meted out in t orments t murderers like myself    Day, as is clearly described in terion” cer, for example. In t books, t I quite rarely lay    in all its colors and violence, recalling t terrifying ses of rated on calfskin by turists, or, for orments of demoed by Cer artists, I ’t keep myself from dras logic:    does “t Journey” cer state in its ty-t not ten t one s,    justification, take t t I’ve sent to    a believer, ification for stering his skull.

        t book Our Sultan ly issioned. If I    silenced e Effendi, all turists and even Master Osmaing t turists ting blaspo exercise trengt just be satisfied er miniaturists, troy tire    c a peep.

        As I did every time I came    ened a like a dutiful servant of Alla    deprive me of time. to make a fox s copper, drove into my bones. I began to feel t sinister ac t. I stepped outside.

        Soon afterraate of mind, I found myself in a pletely different neig ked neighborhood of

        t know rees.

        ering t    leave me be, and it ate at me like a ell you it’ll ease t Effendi”—eit’s t time before ted gilder    t accusations against our Enis    t affected by ion t Enisival tec beast divulged ture. In t picture Enises everyt    tion, it’s pure blasper tion by t sdrel, Enisually asked me to illustrate a number of ued ts on a page and i scales; indeed, it    of a Frankising. Enisook trouble to cover large portions of tion of ted me to illustrate as ed Elegant Effeo ceal someturists.

        I    to ask Enis rating in ting, but t t I murdered Elegant Effendi and make o all. But t ules me as    Effendi    justified in ell myself I sending as if t passed to me from Elegant Effendi, but o me. In t’s no fort either way.

        My legs, o E. I croud for a long time observed t I could in tcime: led among trees ory    tell on ures made in tabriz during taion—as if it    io illustrate in my mind’s eye wter.

        te gazed at ion from beyard gate for a moment before closing it.

        Even my mind, o idiotitasies, quickly, and painfully, dre I had seen:

        One: Since Black was ce Effendi would e our book.

        tiful Shekure would marry Black.

        t tunate Elegant Effendi rue, and so, I’d killed .

        In situations sucellects drater clusion t our s refuse, tire body rebels against t first, ly opposed ted t I    t of murderers. My legs, once again, ag quicker and more rationally t me in pursuit of Black Effendi.

        e’d passed doreets o murder entedly and self-assuredly    t tablis    Effendi’s skull for no reason at all. Noen paces, catco Blad land a bloo , everyte Effendi e me to finis mean fear?) and prudent side tio tell me t ter I’d murdered and tossed into a ruly a slanderer. And if t killed , and Eniso    to t certainly invite me back to his home.

        As I cmost certainty t none of t    o us all: Iion to being overly logical asies for fit, a    our dreams rue; to uand t a particular maiden    be permitted to marry us or t ion in life.

        I c ep    to tred t coiled cozily around my . Men like Black, free from pangs of sd ures before t tire aering able and immediately belittle to grab a stone and run up be too great to resist.

        e    of me and pletely unaurning and ting streets of Istanbul, climbing and desding, raveled like breted streets giveo battling packs of stray dogs, passed burnt ruins yards rees murmuring to teries cros, just out of sigrangling tims, passed endless sables, dervisone    I    follo rat I ating him.

        I AM DEAt you    be afraid, I’m just an illustratio as it may, I read terror in your eyes. t I’m not real—like children who give

        to a game—you’re still seized by ually met Deat me, you se you’ll soil yourselves out of fear    moment is upon you. trol of tions—particularly ty of to be brave-ed. For tretlefields t you’ve depicted times reek not of blood, gunpo of s and rotting flesh.

        I kno time you’ve seen a depi of Death.

        One year ago, a tall, terious old man io er miniaturist e me. In tory e cup of silky, amber-sted coffee to ter,    sed ter miniaturist by flaunting t paper from an, brusies of gold leaf, all manner of reed pens and coral-ing t o pay handsomely.

        “Nohe old man said.

        “I ot draure of Deat ever, not on my entire life, ure of Deaturist, , end up doing the drawing.

        “You do not alo ration of someto depict t ted tian.

        “Yes, per,” said ter illustrator. “Yet, if ture is to be perfect, ters of old , it ougo be dra least a times before I attempt it. No matter erful a miniaturist migs an object for t time,    as an apprentice . I ot put my mastery aside io dying myself.”

        “Suc put you in touc matter,” quipped the old man.

        “It’s not experience of subject matter t makes us masters, it’s    makes us masters.”

        “Sucery ougo be acquainted hen.”

        In tered into aed versation endre, allusions, puns, obscure references and innuendos, as befit miniaturists ers as alent. Si e ened ily to tion, tirety of s among us in this good coffeehouse.

        Let me just say t t wouche following:

        “Is turist’s talent ty to depict everytion as t masters or ty to introduto ture subject matter    illustrator, and alto tion, e reserved.

        “tians measure a miniaturist’s proo discover novel subject matter and tec ed tly.

        “Veians die like Veians,” said trator who would soon draw me.

        “All our deathe old man.

        “Legends and paintings ret inct from one anot rator. “ter miniaturist earns ery by depig unique legends as if hem.”

        In tion turo tians and Ottomans, to ted by tistry of ter aring at me iful eyes in our dear coffeeurbed by ty , o depict me, yet    kind of entity I was.

        ting old man o beguile ter caug of t of to ter.

        “Deatia in o us an angel like Azrael,”    like Gabriel, and, don’t you?”

        I realized t ter, , ient ao illustrate me, because t ially    is to drao us in all its s somets illumination.

        “I am not, in t, familiar urist.

        “e all knohe old man.

        “e fear it, but    kno.”

        “t falls to you to dra fear,” said the old man.

        to create me just t master miniaturist’s nape ingling; ensing up and , because    genuine of great masters, raiension ing in his soul.

        tood ion of me, ed before long, o read passages about me from ti.

        And so, as ter miniaturist oucrait, o    point in t to t point in t.    fort to truly fait for sinners and rebels as painful as a spike ty of you miniaturists are bound for ed me ladeo    to you by Allao take your lives    of deat arrives, a leaf falls from tree located beurist depicted me as a terrifying being, but tful, too, like one s. tio read: ime o remi of t of turist depicted me bat, for    t    be visible to t a grave robbers en lead. rator, listening ily to sucs, depicted me in a ma errify whoever laid eyes on me.

        Later, ted o terror ure, but because o make tration at all. As for me, I feel like someone . urist ed    rated me?

        1. Because I, ture of Deat been draery. As you    see, I am not as perfect as    Veian masters or ters of    dreoo, am embarrassed by my c master    depicted me in a style befitting ty of Death.

        2. Upon being ingly duped by ter illustrator ating tives of tuosos. It disturbed

        ful and,    time, oddly disoers.

        3. It must’ve even daired of me and are smiling: Deatter.

        ter miniaturist s endlessly ea fits ret; like certain Cers,    he has drawn.

        I AM ESt and Blackcat ing from to satc I’d fill up and tie into a bundle. I removed t ly arrived by uguese trader but    selling, substituti snoer, I carefully folded plenty of colorful socks, ts, all of er of t a bouquet of color o make even t indifferent , I packed some lig, but expensive, silk    to make a purc to gossip. I lifted tote. My goodness, too ’ll break my back. I put it do. As I stared at it, trying to determine o leave out, I    t and called to me.

        It    e ter in her hand.

        “S it,” sered t you’d ted to get married.

        itter. I    to return    being seen by anyone and s. Nesim cast a questioning eye at me. I took up t ligc delivering my letters.

        “Ser of Master Enis of he pirl.”

        I cackled and stepped outside, but t. If trutold, I loo sear for Sead of making ligiful s dark-eyed melancholy girl of mine!

        I ever so quickly strode past ted and pitiful in ter, reet, I sed as loud as I could, “Clothierrr!”

        “Fat c sed I steps.”

        “You good-for-atar! Blind men like you are sces forsaken by Alla you deserve.”

        In t, suc    aken tleman and polite.

        “Let’s     ime?” he said.

        “Is t slotill asleep?”

        “ing, expeg news from you.”

        t eacime I visit, I feel as if I’ve entered a tomb. S to, but I al of carping about t even sider returning to t. It’s o imagi lovely Sress of t s smelled of sleep aered t room, moving farto the blaess.

        You couldn’t see your    even o present tter to    of ty    o read tter and satisfy y. he page.

        “Isn’t te,” s to our    I’ve    you    ten even a single line of my fat get your    first pleting t manuscript.

        Letter in o my eyes, as if all t. I’m not fond of this house.

        “turning from t,” he said. “hy?”

        “ tes tters.”

        “Sometimes I    t,” ter along een silver.

        “Some men groi t way,” I said.

        ting, intelligent side to t despite all raits, one could see    ters.

        “ is ther?”

        “You knoan is funding t they say.”

        “Miniaturists are murdering eacures in t book,”    for tes ion? t its pages is enoug on blindness.”

        I kneake any of it seriously. Even if it ter to take to , at t, to take seriously about me taking tter seriously. Like many of tter courier aor,    at me    of my job, preteo be upset to en rary, .

        “You’re an intelligent e. I’m curious about t fool’s response.”

        For a moment, I felt like saying, “Black is not so foolisuations, making rival suitors jealous of eacc I rum.

        “You kngar at treet?” I said. “ one.”

        to avoid getting into it reet and to pass t early in t Muslims eat t e! My grandmot in peace, ell me     shem for food.

        At Kemeraral 1k, I saing bolt upriger. I sig been so absentmindedly devoted to books, if urned from t’ve lived like ty .

        urned onto Black’s street, my    quied. Did I    So marry t time, in keeping t.

        But    to    on ts except o his love for Shekure.

        “Clothierrrrr!”

        trade for tters to lovers addled by loneliness or tain of receiving t neo read tter, a shem.

        By not mentioning anyt urn, by tying    get your o one dition alone, S cause to be    pleasure, I cter. raugo e c a dark money purse, ed to sell to Black’s nosy landlady.

        “t Persia,” I said.

        “My so ers do you deliver to Black?”

        I could read from    so set up er, or ed Black. “No one’s,” I said. “A poor relative of he Bayrampasha sickhouse and needs money.”

        “Ounate man?”

        “ubbornly.

        e began to glare at eacility. S’ve been quite difficult. If you ever o bee a clot only    and legendary romair people’s curiosity. Everyt ion, jealousy, loneliness, enmity, tears, gossip and never-ending poverty. Suc like ts t furnising on ay baking s, tongs and an asing beside tove, turban stand maintaio ceal tary life and an old so scare thieves off.

        Black ily returned o take t to our suffering patient. If ing. You    fi Master Enis of the day.”

        t like Black to ory

        maneuvers, tters    of a maiden. Or does ruly er? At times, I didn’t trust Black at all and    erribly.    t, despite spending ire day he same house, he’s incapable of giving her a sign?

        Once I side, I ope taier. I    tter t I nearly ran to able-sellers    cabbage, carrots and t in front of t I didn’t even    io toue to fohem.

        I turned onto treet, and sa tatar ing to u in ion; t ing cold freeze ts to death?

        As ly read tter, I could barely maintain my patience. Finally, uo restrain myself, I suddenly said “Yes?” and he began reading aloud:

        My Dearest Sed t I plete your fatain t I    your    to pester you, as you’d earlier indicated. I’m quite a my love for you is my o, due to to take up my pen and e ed for o your fatensively and t one cause: After te fear losing t vision. If I could once more see you close-up, I’d erday, S brougo today, at ime you see fit, I’ll go t for you. Yesterday, S mentio you dreamt your husband had died.

        ter mogly, in places raising g trembling supplication of a lover en o see you just once” in Persian.    So iate. Suet to.”

        “h Shekure,” I said naively.

        “t proves t you’ve taken Black’s side,” ten t s my older brot means ss h.”

        “t    a dream,” I said like an idiot.

        “I k aken Black to thinks

        serribly mistaken! My older brotill alive and urn from the war.”

        Before o clude,    into t room o lig succeeded only in burning    out a    t beside a folding able. s case, dipped it into an inking on a small piece of paper. I sensed    my co s I    afraid, I smiled exaggeratedly.

        “ know?” he asked.

        “Just beyond t Mosor of tan and t of men, ress from Amasya and er, people claimed t rangled so unleavened bread could be made from nesses or iful er tan died,    find tiful    ther, who’d been living alone.”

        “If S    for my broto e back from t, tters.

        No anger or    tune and sorroicular to tri. I suddenly saoms    made    all. After all s, it da    once again ask me    o being t s evil—aion in love is a signifit cause for doing so—cruelty follos and t terrible red salked about,    tou to leave, in a near frenzy, I stumbled outside onto treet.

        tting victim to tatar beggar. But I immediately pulled myself togetly dropped a small stone I’d picked off to atar.”

        it lauge    was a . Ign oward one of my “daugo a good husband.

        t s “daugover, but still crisp. For ternoon meal se t. So as not to disappoint ed and ate th fresh bread.

        Se of ste any ation, I requested some rose-petal jam, a spoonful of o te before topping off my meal. After on to deliver tters to my melancholy Shekure.

        I, S of folding and putting a    to dry yesterday o tell you. But    peepiently ing for tters from Blad    as I se my fatified, I also k iernal. ed to be married, and because ed to be married,    me,    me, aking care to fall in love h her beforehand.

        In tc Ester s, as sy look. I realized t since ress, s be rep to    the case.

        “My black-eyed girl, my dark-fortuned beauty, my stunniy of beauties, I s of nonsense,” said Esthis.”

        Sook out tters; I snatco a er    could still    passed bet be able to see my expression, I turned my ba ter first.    about t. “Don’t be afraid, Suation,” I said to myself and began reading ter. he verge of madness:

        S I kno in t ed. In my dreams, I see myself ced ops. Every time you leave one of my letters—t I kno. I’m ing in    you’ll respond time. t, everyone’s spreading t: You’ve dreamed t your    you’re free. I ot say ’s true.    I do kno you’re still married to my older broto t my fatified, o to urned    your fat your to e back to tely.

        After reading tter a sed time, I pulled myself toget Estioning eyes, but sold me not hasan or Black.

        I pulled out t I kept ry, placed a s of paper on t to begin ing a letter to Black when I froze.

        Someto mind. I turoer s    seemed ridiculous to me t s hrough my mind.

        “See ly you’re smiling, my dear,” s . Istanbul is rife lemen and paso be o a stunniy, possessed of so many talents like yourself.”

        You uand alking about: Sometimes you’ll say somet no sooner do tedly, even t t was w he following:

        “But Est to marry a wo kids, for heaven’s sake?”

        “A y, a slew of men,” sure.

        I looked into    like    t s going to give ter and even t it ter if s. After Esto my o it—in my soul.

        Leaning on tood still in t of myself, of    and    upstairs.

        “And you’re as timid as a girl,” said S. “You only attack from behind.”

        “My tooth is loose,” said Orhan.

        At time, anot of my mind rating on ranspiriher and Black.

        ter beraits of tian masters, , in painting, eyes o longer simply be    must be just like our o as paper, but must be nodes of expression—eac ss est tra or relaxation. Our noses o longer be a kind of    divides our faces, but ratruments o each of us.”

        as Black as surprised as I    my fato tlemen    I arily alarmed. My dark beloved, my troubled o sleep for t? Is t w your face?

        Per a Black is a tall, trong, straig nose. As in tery and agile. ands straigall,    not as broad as ter carrier.    yet settled. ter,    tained a kind of perfe.

        Noo t plagues    at once guilty and proud t . Black listeo ration made for tely i and c t edly felt, yes, like putting my breast into it. itangled in s, and as my oanding t only tely bound to me.

        I perspired faintly and imagined Black marveling at ts ensity—ratudying tration of t my fatually s only my breasts, but as if drunk    my    all of me. tracted to me t o t not summon as a youted patiently and bravely for my y of tter I’d ten him.

        I felt aoting t be able to marry again. I rations urists make in imitation of ters, and I was sick of ions of Venice.

        my os, Black ly t in t rong    secure. My ingled, my nipples iffening. It seemed as if to me. My    was Black’s like? I wondered.

        At times in my dreams, my o me. I e to t my ruggling to keep     as    sadly, te bank, covered

        in blood and suffering terribly, I notice t . If it’s true    truto    gre,” t so big. If Black’s is bigger, if t enormous t y piece of paper I’d sent by S yesterday; if t ually it—and it surely    pain, if it even fits inside me at all.

        “Mot is mog me.”

        I left t, quietly passing into t from t and put it on. t my mattress and .

        “Didn’t I     to s, did I not?”

        “Mama,    red vest on?” S asked.

        “But Mot was mog me,” Orhan said.

        “Didn’t I tell you not to mock ’s to there iece of animal hide.

        “It’s a carcass,” Or found it o.”

        “Quick, take it and t back w, now.”

        “Let S do it.”

        “I said now!”

        As I    my lo catch cold.

        Of all turists, I liked Black t. ood ook out pen and paper, and iting,    o te the following:

        All rig you at ther’s book as soon as possible.

        I did not reply to ually going to today, I didn’t believe t tely. If o take su    ing a letter or aing my reply. ing my

        response, and,    arrive, it’ll drive o abduct me. Don’t t afraid of    all. But, I’m ting on Black to protect me. Aell you    no so afraid of hasan because I love him as well.

        If you objed to yourselves, “No?” I’d find you justified. It’s not t I failed to notice during ted uurn, iful,    Estells me    of money—and I    alell    self-fidey t attracts me to ters ubbornly sent to me.

        Botraveling for t me letters every day, in trated birds and gazelles. At first I er, I loved to read ters again and again.

        As I     everyto do    surprised t    I suspected    Estting ters I’d sent to Black. t’s o Black by ter tified.

        “o turned.

        tood t I    really angry. Discreetly, I pulled S aside, to t. I lifted o my lap. I kissed he nape of his neck.

        “You’re cold, my dear,” I said. “Give me tty hem up…”

        I didn’t ent. Pressing o my bosom, I gave    time ten, sly meh pleasure.

        “So te a lot, don’t you?”

        “Ummmhmmm.”

        “Is t a ”yes“?”

        “Yes.”

        “More than anybody else?”

        “Yes.”

        “to tell you somet. “But you    tell anyone, all rig?”

        “More than Orhan, even?”

        “More t uand anyter, you’re able to uand.” I kissed and smelled o ask you a favor. Remember ly brougerday? You’ll do today, all right?”

        “her.”

        “?”

        “erday in the hanged Jew.”

        “ did he say?”

        “”I killed your faty of men,“ he said.”

        Suddenly somet slid doo cry.    t’ve been uo trol myself just t    ao ted. But    a man I’d been making arras to marry—and t, hese boys in mind.

        My poor little fatill g, and all at o me greatly. I, too, ears. e    so mucroked his hair.

        t all began: told my fat I’d dreamed my ually, as e frequently over turned from battling tingly, and t o me.

        Dreams are alo otugal, from    seems dreams o prove ics met    torturers of tuguese Corture to describe to fess t take. In

        ted over to s people were o accuse and n Jews.

        Dreams are good for things:

        ALIF: You    somet you just ’t ask for it. So you’ll say t you’ve dreamed about it. In t you     actually asking for it.

        BA: You    to    to slander a    sug adultery or t suc, you’ll say. In t believe you, tion of t never fotten.

        DJIM:You    somet you don’t even kno is. So, you’ll describe a fusing dream. Your friends or family ely interpret tell you    are ually see in our sleep. ,” t is “dreamed” during t ly as erpret takes real dreams seriously, including tell, do you?

        t I edly reted, I ed t my    truly be dead. t first    accept tion of truter returning from t my    only believed t my ually immortal t four years,    ain of    been officially announced. It    truly realized t t fat    truly began to grieve.

        “Do you ever .

        “Yes,”    return home, and I end up marrying you.”

        y t I    able to pass on to my cher’s high, broad forehead.

        “Go on ther.”

        “ her’s old sword?”

        “Yes.”

        For some time, I gazed at tening to triking eacruggled to quell ty t    doo tco e some time noo Galleon    you take a ferips of t dried fruit pulp t S likes out of its    the kids have some.”

        ing in tc upstairs. I lifted o my lap and kissed his neck.

        “You’re covered in s,” I said. “ happened here?”

        “S    me h our uncle’s red sword.”

        “It’s bruised,” I said and touc. “Does it ? less our S is. Listen to    aive. I    to make of you. If you do ell you a secret t I    tell S or anyone else.”

        “ is it?”

        “Do you see to go to yrandfat letting o place tand?”

        “I uand.”

        “ill you do it?”

        “’s t?”

        “Just take ly. And ’s been so very long since aken to t gone since S’s to rise in front of tell you t later.” I kissed    and very pretty. S’s a nuisance. y to lift a    her.”

        “I’m not going to deliver ther.”

        “S told you t airs and tell o e here.”

        Orerrified,    of tly pleased t S rouble. A urned flus    in one her.

        “You’ve told your brot Black    ever    you to say sud affe to Black. Do and eac alloo live your entire lives    a father.”

        “I don’t    urn to our    for my fat said brazenly.

        te t I slapped    put t fell from his hand.

        “I    my fatears.

        But I han he was.

        “You    be ing back,” I said tearfully. “You’re fat you uand, you bastards.” I hin.

        “e aren’t bastards,” said S, g.

        e all cried long and ened my    and I se I    made me a better person. In our unal fit of tears, ress. S s as if to nap. Sometimes, uck toget I could se    sleeping. I mig t my mind    airs. I could smell t aroma of boiling es. I abruptly sat up in bed and made suc the boys awoke.

        “Go doairs, omachs.”

        I o fall outside. I begged for Allaer once again reading tion in ter ed t ttle,    ease o my deceased an’s as yet unfinisrait? My fat trait        of fear, as o tried to look directly intlorious Sultan’s eyes.

        I called for Or lifting o my lap, kissed    lengt being scared, and    letting yrandfato give to Black. Do you uand?”

        “My tooth is loose.”

        “ back, if you , I’ll pull it out,” I said. “You’re to sidle up to    a loss for o do and ly place to ood?”

        “I’m afraid.”

        “to be afraid of. If it    for Black, do you knoo bee your fatead? Uncle    Uncle o bee your father?”

        “No.”

        “All rig’s see you go, my pretty and smart Or, c, I’ll be really angry…And if you cry, I’ll get even angrier.”

        I folded my letter several times, tuck it into ret ion. Allao my aid so t t left to fend for ted o t t me fearfully one last time.

        I cook aioopped, and momentarily ated—unsure o do.    to cry. But    o Black’s lap. Black, clever enougo    to be fato my ic to find Orably on o see if the boy’s hands.

        Orurned beartled gaze of my fato meet ook o my lap, kissing    lengt airs to tche raisins he liked so much.

        “ake to Galleon    suitable for soup from Kosta’s place. take t roasted cmeat sausage s. alk to o go until t be careful t catch cold.”

        After t, t in t upstairs and took out ttle mirror t my fat. I kept it    smelled of lavender. I    up. If I looked at myself in tance, and moved oely, I could see my ed me, but I also ed to don my mot of rousseau. I took out tacried it on, but it didn’t please me. As I rying it on u a crembled    all, of course, I o reet robe, but at t

        minute I cly crossing t my mot it on. Just t to a panic: Black    on t igline, but I liked it. I test and    veil, lo over my face.

        Black Effendi    left yet, of course; I’d let my appre noell my fat I    to buy fisairs like a cat.

        I closed t. I quietly passed tyard a, momentarily turned and looked back at t seemed as if it    our    all.

        treet, not even any cats. Flakes of s never fell. It smelled of rotten leaves, dampness a,    as t jin    nig tove and make merry. I artled to steps in ty ed, stock-still. I    t I couldn’t place this one.

        During t silence I se tood dead still so    steps. Straalked as treet. I t of o God t t catc follo. Black    ing. I’d made a mistake, and I ougo return errified, I imagi    the door opened.

        I abruptly . I didn’t knoo t of t ligering, I realized t Black o see me, to borroening to steps.

        Black passed took a feeps and stopped. e stood five paces apart and berohere was a silence.

        “Remove your veil,” he said in a whisper. “Please.”

        “I’m married. I’m aing my urn.”

        “Remove your veil,” one. “Your    ever e back.”

        “o meet me o tell me this?”

        “Nay, I’ve done so to be able to see you. I’ve been t me look at you just once.”

        I removed it. I udied my fad stared at lengto ths of my eyes.

        “Marriage and motiful. And your face irely different t I remembered.”

        “how had you remembered me?”

        “it of you, I couldn’t    t    you but a fantasy. In our co discuss er seeing images of eac you?    t S fallen in love    sure ree branc o see t image times before falling in love? You used to say t in fairy tales everyt love ougo    saure. But    salked about t trait of your matc have suffered so.”

        e lovely tories of looking at an illustration and falling in love and of ely for me. I noticed tted ted some at time my appreciation of t    bouo    guilty for    c t rust him.

        e embraced. t I felt no guilt. I let myself be borne a emotion. I ig    ire le t love o be like t oo my moutent    I    ; I could thing bad.

        Let me describe for you ’ve beeed by ter miniaturists of , if tragic story of mine ain amazing illustrations t my fat’s flocation is ecchless wings

        pierg ture’s bgests tion of tormenting eacive ped so small, so far in ta for a moment it’d seem like tory    about t all, but o do arry nigrees, te palace s courtyard and its ention to t symmetry of turist could only vey otal resignation to , and to terious ligire painting, tely see t t berations is t ted by love itself. It’s as if a liging from tration. And whe very same manner.

        to kno sucs for long. Black sly took my large breasts into    good and, fetting all, I longed for o suy nipples. But    quite ma, because    all t sure of y didn’t prevent ing mradually, fear and embarrassment came bet omac at first; I    embarrassed. I told myself t an embrace sucurally lead to anoturned my    take my s size.

        Later still, ried to force me to perform t vulgar act t even Kipcell stories at t do, I froze in astonis and indecision.

        “Don’t furrow your brow, my dear,” he begged.

        I stood up, pusing at    payi mind to ment.
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