I believe it    time of t t tan ition. As you and, my dear Sultan; indeed, wiful han I?

        It gave me pause,    ture o be made    color in tyle. o be t in tion and application of tration ? I tried to get more information out of tty boy    or Master Osman . Master Osman,    a doubt, k and likes me t of all ters.

        So, as I gazed at ty page, tance, look and demeanor of a    an and Master Osman came to life before my eyes. t to be lively, but serious, like ter Osman made ten years ago, and it s alan, so t boty. ure? how would Bihzad?

        Suddenly, t entered my ts    by time I uood    arting from t f. After quickly joining to tly, pleasurably and fidently—ist is no illustrator, but a calligrap my    moved as if it beloo anotacular arcs became tomad sration mige. Oalent of    my raced out trong and joyful elligent fore, once again, look Motiful, I merrily dreing a letter, and I o ter. I s ar

        to its saddle. My self o being, , rounded body not unlike my ounned by t about t ents Our Sultan o laug t    t out of took my bruso told a joke. I briskly outliail. le and curvaceous I made to cup it in my le butt of a boy I    to violate. As I smiled, my clever opped: t rearing     talented of miniaturists and even    o I o bee or; but t else ts ake my ration seriously. ticulously rerils, teetrands of ail and saddle bla in miail so t t I ration. From tion, t is, teral vieesticles s I left t because t unduly preoccupy tudied my empest, strong and po ical brusrokes in motion, like tters in a line of script, yet t miniaturist ion as if praising a Bioo, hem.

        master of old dra horse.
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