Silent and unseen, under cover of early m darkness, I left like a guilty    and irelessly treets. At Bayazid, I performed my ablution in tyard, e talent only rarely acer a lifetime of practice. You knoice of us and we pray

        icipation of one    a petition into tan’s o grant me a ch loving people.

        er Osman’s    ime e Eniss. rary and more distant, but    illumination ive elderly dervis master s of fear, aurists for so many years.

        As raveled from ter’s o ted on a ly, I on foot and likerations t apany old fables.

        At tan ain t oers’ rice, determio torture    even alloion. e aken not to tioners’ fountain    to t small slapdasered seclusion of tan’s Private Garden, ion, torture and strangling.

        A youtoo elegant and polite to be one of tatively placed ts of paper on a able.

        Master Osman took out    began to pound. Like an eagle gliding elegantly over a tract of land, ai a stant distance from trations. And like t eagle catc of ts prey,    ily and calmly.

        “It’s not er a time.

        “ isn’t he ander.

        I’d assumed t master ion, scrutinizing every aspect of to hoof.

        “ter    left a sirace,” said Master Osman. “e    be able to determinut ures.”

        taking up t aside, I looked at trils: ter ; trils of tnut e’s manuscript. Just ttention turo torturers ing outside

        rying to observe ttle quickly backward as if possessed by a jinn, seeking ser berees.

        At t moment, like a illumian, tion of tered the room.

        Master Osman fessed to     been able to determine anytrations.    refrain from draan’s attention to t paintings: te stance of t and, in ty and pride matt of a books. Mean    ure, and to door to tists’    Master Osman said.

        “My Sn, don’t be surprised t I knoers like ter. “ beer miniaturist s ins.”

        “You mean to say?” said Our Sultan.

        “Your Excellency, Prosperous Sultan and Refuge of ture, evident rils of tnut    simply take of a painter, but a sign ant past to otures, otecyles and pero examiuries-old books t You keep under lod key in ts, and ets of treasury, ify as tec ake; ttribute it to turists.”

        “You er my treasury?” said tan in amazement.

        “t is my wiser.

        t as brazen as asking to e tood t in as mucreasury occupied ttiest spots in tyard of te Paradise of Our Sultan’s Palace, t spots in Our Sultan’s .

        I rying to read iful face,    urists as a er’s impudence?

        Looking at t I iful attributes, t

        o e distant world.

        I t just as being taken into t of t serving Our Sultan and perurist meant serving God and dying for ty.

        Mucer, e, deat, as I passed te ed as if t even see us. terday    o affect me in t, for I kne aken furto t of Our Sultan’s secret o te Quarters of the Enderun.

        e passed to tered a fairy tale, I kept my eyes trained on to avoid ing face-to-face ures t mig me. I couldn’t even look at tan    my gaze o fall momentarily on tree, one no different from otrees, and on a tall man in a caftan of soopped before a portal, larger and more imposing t, framed in oralactite patterns. At its tood treasury s; one of to open the lock.

        Staring directly into our eyes, treasurer said: “You are truly blessed by fortune, an ed you permission to ereasury of t no one else ures and pages of gold, and like ers, you rack tan bade me remind you t good Master Osman il to    in turists’ midst; failing t, tter surned over to to be resolved by torture.”

        First, to ensure no key e permission. treasury and t, signaling roduced, tter t filled ter Osman suddenly turned an asruck by a dark radia seemed a remnant of a days.

        “My Sultan didn’t    taries o enter unnecessarily,” said treasurer. “to look after tead. For tan    Jezmi Aghin.”

        Jezmi Ag, so be at least seventy years old. han he.

        “Jezmi Agerior of treasury like ions of books and all else better than anyone.”

        ting brazier, t icks t the palace pages were carrying.

        treasurer annou ty-year-old sig of Sultan Selim ter t suness of ttendant croreasury c caution t notsoever “mistakenly” found its o our clots or saso our undergarments upoing.

        e entered, passi eit    and y t drove deep into my nasal passages. Everys, d s intermingled in a ic jumble. I    I o a great battle.

        My eyes adjusted to t t fell over tire space, rades of tairs along tinged    clots and kilims ion of all t and cities and treasuries plundered.

        “Frigo my feelings. “Everybody is frig visit. At nigs of ts wo eacher.”

        erred. Betering of to tionless.

        I sausks, caftans, silver dlesticks and satin banners. I sarunks, Cs, long-necked lutes, armor, silk cuss, furs, red ostrics. ts, clotin every-in closets and small ste cells built inte ligans of sultans, surbans, pilloars, ruby-ed turbans, turban plumes, curious clocks, ewers and daggers, ivory

        statues of s, nargudded tops, mots of draes, strands of large prayer beads, and s adorned urquoise. t, ly doed floating dust particles in t t streams in from t atop t t sunlig, ts appeared as if made from terial. After    c everyt dimmed ts into an are sameness. And as trange and indistinct items, uo distinguis even t profusion of objects became even more terrifying.    I t er decided able, and later still, some strange Frankis t among tans and plumes pulled out of tily tossed ually aic et sent by te Czar.

        Jezmi Ag    into the wall.

        “ed?” wer Osman.

        “ an Selim t back from tabriz, ty    volumes brougian ambassador to Our Sultan’s grandfatian books from time of Sultahe queror?”

        “t Sa an Selim, Denizen of Paradise, as a present ty-five years ago,” said Master Osman.

        t us to a large . Master Osma as    s colops pages. togetonis at trations of kly slanted eyes.

        “”Gengai Kuluy Ker Osman before closing taking up another.

        e came across an incredibly beautiful illustratioing to vey tain, tnessing Fer of love rembling grief-stri    Master Osman and I antly affected by taste of tears and sorroouc ed—as t masters intended—not to signify Ferrengt rato vey    at oire world.

        “A Biation made in tabriz eiger Osman said as her.

        ture t s and t in t bettacks of a marten on tion in an unfortu cauger’s trap. to an agreement: t, pretending to be ten and turn, tiously frees t from tand ter’s sensibility, ter uffed ther.

        t picture of a mysterious ly opened one ion, uro ened ily. I looked at ture avidly, jealous of timacy, love and friendshem.

        Putting t book doer Osman opeo a page from anoturanian armies, eternal enemies, s, greaves, bo, legendary and fully armored tle to ty yelloeppe ips of t, bedecked in an array of colors and patiently co to fig to tell myself t regardless of ion oday or a ’s a depi of ist of absolute faitually paints and veys is a battle ing; I o declare furt turist actually paints ience, ’s not    tome.

        In tains iion t seemed to go on forever. I t i seeing t depig it as if it er Osman reted ration migraveled from Buko , from    to tabriz, and at last, from tabriz to Our Sultan’s palace, moving from book to book along to be rebound ings at to Istanbul.

        e saures of ening and more expertly do: Rüstem togetem attag Afrasiyab’s army; and Rüstem, disguised in armor, a mysterious and uified    of deatting eaame, claser Osman—for wime—looked upon hing in a

        lake by moonliging as ter aended separation, and a spirited picture, all aflutter rees and fletrue great master,    tention to some oddity in a er of even t painting, pero do    on t of tor or perion of colors: As miged, ening to a cal by ing, but see t kind of sad and spiteful painter    ominous oree branc lovely boy dressed in ian rying to peel tasty es     later on oo, would be blinded?

        e saed Prop during e-bearded old man symbolizing Saturn; and baby Rüstem sleeping peacefully in co ted on a black rils bore no peculiarity, and ter Osman rapidly picked out t t times reize an artist and s an illustrator’s signature ures and ine    susurrus of turning pages could be er Osman    “A I kept my peace, uo uand imes    ered tion ement of trees and mounted soldiers of a particular illustration in ot ses of pletely different stories, and    out tures again to jog my memory. ure in a version of Nizami’s Qui from time of tamerlane’s son S is, from nearly ty o ask me    t turists ed ture    ion o paint is to remember.”

        Opening and sting old illuminated manuscripts, Master Osman    ted ed pieces (for all miniaturists    tist    is, old pictures of trees, angels, parasols, tigers, tents, dragons and mela ime y of o us, s. ty of illustrators and of t, gaze upon to remember t Alla to us. test masters in ea of

        painters, expending toiling until blind, strove    effort and inspiration to attain and record t Allao see. tunately, eve masters, just like tired old men reat miniaturists gone blind from to recollect random parts of t magnifit vision. terious    a ly te never e t separated them.

        Long after of treasury    became evident t t tained none of t books t Sa to Our Sultan’s grandfater Osman revisited t times, a bird’s o a tree, ts or turies by passing from master to disciple and being saugions. ail from er, turist believes it to be a perfe, and is as vinced of its immutability as    as    tail indelibly painted in ting does not mean ter artist ail. toms of tinguis of s and taste for color of ter beside an    times, prevent ing t detail, and he way a woman laughs—”

        “Or trils of a horse.”

        “—or trils of a one-faced Master Osman, “not t’s been ingrained in t acc to tom of tly finds    like tand me?”

        From a page in Nizami’s e a feing Sed on er Osman read aloud an inscription engraved on tone plates above tED ALLAORIOUS SON OF tAMERLANE KAN, OUR JUSt KECt Y AND DOMAINS SO Emost stone read) Amost stone read).

        Later, I asked, “ rations    rils in tched upon his memory?”

        “e must locate t Sa as a gift,” said Master Osman. “e must revisit ting of miniatures. e    to examine.”

        It crossed my mind t, just perer Osman’s main goal    to find    to scrutinize as mucacular pictures t    quietly for years in treasury safe fr eyes. I greient to find t e me ed me at t I’d been loato believe t t master mig to stay in treasury as long as possible.

        t in opening ots, ots so examiures t fed up ures, c Sle er’s side— even a gla trils of try to    tfully and aruck among t rooms of treasury. At times, prompted by an abrupt cry and ure by Master Osman, I’d imagi a neerpiece    last a o    ture ter remble as    curled up on an Us dating from time of Sultan Meo enter an illustration, ting, say, Satan slyly b Noah’s ark.

        e s and kime of tamerlao Sultan Süleyman t—edly ed gazelles, lions and rabbits. e sa tood upon scraps of ied to te t c of t    of a myt volume, o t page,    S, in ration t brougo life ted ade from bobbins aal balls, birds and Arabic statuettes seated on t, ime.

        I don’t kno examining book after book and illustration after illustration in t ime revealed in tures and stories reasury. It seemed t ted pages, created over turies by ture of eyesigless sans, o life, as s t seemed to besiege us: ts, scimitars, daggers udded y and delicate lutes, and tless illustrations.

        “I noand t by furtively and gradually re-creating tures for ists ed transformation of to another.”

        I’ll be first to admit t I didn’t pletely uand    master meant. But the close

        attention my master o tures made over t tabriz to Bago Istanbul, ion of some rils. e’d participated in a kind of melanco tion, talent and patience of all ters ed in the years.

        For treasury    time of ter Osman explaio me t soever to leave, and t furtil m examining pictures by t of oil lamps and dles could e properly Our Sultan’s c response, as I informed o remain he dwarf.

        er veyed    creasurer, immediately regretted my decision. I longed for Sless as I ten doters of the windows.

        treasury portal, I o tside by trees in tyard of t of fog—and by tures of to eac to disturb tan; but I remained .

        E tO DERVIS our picture    prising an album est er of treasury filled ries over ors of an,    probably spread to turists’ division by t no our oory in our oake offense.

        One en years y siisan derviss of devilry, but see for yourselves, ell you ian style! As tration indicates, one day an’s domains from oy to t.

        e , our    and t around our s and ing o eat wever food God h.

        At t moment, standing before a caravansary beside a fountain, my dear friend, nay, my beloved, nay, my broto t: “You first please, no you first,” o eaco o take up t from traveler, a strange man, stopped us, gave us ea    and began to draure.

        uated us riger of tent of tan, and ing us in our ate     to appear like a pair of truly impoverises of our eyes fag t’s exactly o do. In tuation, it’s ture of a derviso beside; since our    t ter saw.

        Meanwside ing of a hoja Effendi.

        Pray, let us not give tion of ted “ last    misuanding: ted “soever to do    ard     op a tree. terpret everytively    if arget of reproac out toryteller’s tongue and lo his head.

        One y years ago, ted ory eaming h rage.

        “ing prayers, not ting ture of disgrace    try? Is it to disgrace us?”

        “Not at all, it’s simply because illustrations of your bad side bring in more money,” said ter’s reasoning.

        “If it broug t?” trying to start an argument, but as you    see from ture, tian ist, and ’d bring raty prattle.

        us, and to tfolio on the back of his horse’s saddle, and

        returo y. Soon afterorious armies of ttomans quered and plu city on to Istanbul and treasury. From t book to anot ting, invigorating elixir. ise on Painting, Deat mentioen out and collected in a tome: Kalenderi dervis belong to any of tegories into ists; they are superfluous.

        Additionally, ramp about as a pair and al o eat    kno to true —o bugger t amusing and laug-take-It-rong    because ty young boys, apprentices and miniaturists, are all felloravelers on th.”

        t is ture,    us so sly aion to detail t ook a liking to ed by , ting t t    fine, but    mind. Noe tent, indeed. Acc to to some unbelievers    decayed corpses and acc to you, telligent society of miniaturists gature, and because ure, and er our run-in ed er o Sivas in ts, t villages, begging all t    by suc    before dying I    of a painting t entered er thousands of years.

        It IS I, MAStER OSMANtell a story in Buk dates bae of Abdulla objeore tist’s brusributing to tration, o painters copying from one anot impossible to determine s brazenly copying from one anoto blame for an error. More importantly, after a time, instead of puso seek out God’s memories urists    ist beside t masters, one from

        S, er of ; ed talents to look at eaced te ends of ly ty-seven years and four montening to a legend, t masters eaed to Abdulla to-be-seen o ty about eags. After ts long tortoiselike course, tists ran to eaco see tings. Later still, sitting upoures t turists    disappoi because trations t nearly as spectacular as ticipated from tories t instead appeared, mucures t years, rat masters didn’t t t o desd upon t after botely blind, rattributed to iful tures.

        In t in treasury room, as I turned pages ures in books t I’d dreamed of for forty years, I knes in tiless story from Buk gave me suoo ter, t I imes I    one of pages I urning s legend.

        For instance, eig and all of Ked ; to celebrate turn,    prepared, an illuminated version of a book entitled tars, ory as nessed by Emir o legend, one illustration in ting oory. tan of Dels of t tion. I ely certain t tory I jured an’s tent, and I to see this miraculous page.

        In an illustration by S masters of t    to it to er ed long and patiently, to ed    to tan. As o me times, t a poor subject aptly feels to ked monarc a ice feels toward er, was rendered h such delicad deep passion,

        from tension of t’s fingers o y to summon to look at t er joy in to be appreo a great master, and t sucy er to a young, pretty and intelligent apprentid I grieved for truth.

        I tur    attention upon trees and clouds, y to ex edly removed volume after volume from d placed te ers of an iron c stuffed omes, on books and disorderly albums, traordinary volumes—one bound in tyle    and finisained pages so resembling eac at first I t trying to determiion,    t Master Sabriz esall er o prevent    volume, t master artist te esed a superior copy from memory. to see t tures in t volume ing, reminded me t ty of life but also deadens its vigor.

        Since I myself am a genuine great master, so ao is t I ed noe and terrifying darkness of ttered treasury, like a ned man    time before o see all trations and hem.”

        As I turable ly came across legends and matters of blindness. In tryside outing falling in love er seeing ure on tree, Sinctly all tree one by one so tire sky. In anso a fool    true subject of tration    tree, S true subject    tiful young maide ist, and to proudly prove    tempted to paint tree s leaves on a grain of rice. If ture iful feet of Stendants    misled me, I    tree made by ter on paper—not tree made on a grain of rice, ed task. On anotem blinding Alexander ed in tists    blindness, t desire of turist, appeared to the

        prologue to a joyous celebration.

        My eyes ures and volumes, no less ement of one o be for years treasury room suffused    I’d never seen before—caused by t    of t in admiration,    page before me. Uo restrain myself, I’d begin to explain:“to t master Mirza Baba Imami from tabriz, t of o t for t, turban, and look, it’s ty boy’s caftan. Allaly revealed t s flo o find ty of red t is only visible to tures of test of masters, God did, s secret to t of is liviones,” I said and added, “to    to us.”

        “Look at ter, once again uo refrain from serpiece—tion of g trees of springtime blooming in an array of color, t of ion of t garden as ted poetry; it y and icy treasury could also smell tely sted skin of tice ist , tances and t of ttering about ty, also made tfi of Bukemper and belligerence caused o leave eacrations     tood noting, and y for long. t master    from one so anoty to city, quarreling all to find a ruler s, until ial    aintops. Claiming t ”t be small but ing,“    ty-five years of    tial lord oday, a subject of jecture and a source of humor.”

        “Do you see to t, and time to my side, dlesticks aloft. “From time of tamerlane’s grandco t, ten os ures, dedications, orical information and names of sultans—ogetop of eaced in , an Veli, son of Muzaffer of , in t-üd Dünya, the wife of

        Muorious broter still,    to tesan o o tans in time, removing or adding one or tures; beginning    oiful o trations and appeo ter passed to Sam Mirza , e dedication, for urn broug to tabriz and    prepared as a gift    anotion. an Selim ted S Cabriz, treasury in Istanbul, after traveling across deserts, mountains and rivers along orious sultan’s soldiers.

        er’s i aement did Blad turrators from ies large and small, eactive temperament, eag uronage of a different cruel sain, eat and succumbing to blindness. I felt tings icesed il our ed brigones upon our sion—tive book t displayed mets of torture. I    ttoman treasury: Instead of seeing torture as a necessary practice administered before to ensure Allai travelers s of our cruelty and evil-edness by urists abase tures iurist ures of bastinados, beatings, crucifixions, , ranglings, tting of ts, feedings to er, te flayings, tting off of noses and true artists like us iados, random pummelings and fists so t table master er—not to mention icks and rulers so t to be reborn as tion—only ing bastinados and tortures, only s y of c a ce.

        our rations    uand anyto take a closer look, yet lag tie feel t, tion I noures in treasury—but truly knourrusty mot eye passed over tures like an old stork traversing ttle surprised by t still astoniso see neo kno    from yle” first took ser had worked for whom, and how, for example,

        t Persia from    under Ced “A an agony lurked deeper    I    scarcely stled, tormented, pretty, moon-faced, gazelle-eyed, sapling-ters—battered by masters— remained full of excitement and ion t developed beters and ting, before succumbing to anonymity and blindness after long years of toil.

        It    t I ee feelings, ty of ten over years of rendering ions for Our Sultan. In an album of collected pictures I saed Persian boy ly as I    moment, and it reminded me of y belongs to Allaer from Isfaears in my eyes, I beiourising. A tiny-footed, transparent-skinned,    and die, y of a maiden gazed o t adorable arm to demonstrate trengttac to her.

        Oddly, my    began to qui and pound. As y years ago in my early apprentices some rat illustrations of ed maidens drayle of tabriz, beads of s accumulated on my f I felt and t I experienced aken my first steps toer status, I saal-skinned yout in as an apprentice didate. For a moment, I rong feeling t painting    about melanc but about t and t it alent of ter artist t first transformed to a love of God and to a love of t; s    it caused me to relive atic delig over til my back ion to c bliration and all ting I’d suffered and made otared long and silently at tration . Mucer I ill staring. A teardrop slid from my eye over my y beard.

        iced t one of ticks sloing treasury ly set beside me. t tcile envy. I turnut and bay    could’ve been ters of —acular turly seated goveral official greeted me from a seventy-year-old picture; I couldn’t determine , yet the

        painting, ted man’s beard painted in various    beat quickly as I reized tion of t    kneo my face.

        I ures dra Master Biimes before; per looked at t in a group of former masters years ago, per be certain    Bi been as taken as I was now.

        treasury cifully dra arm branded    noy before I    blind.    kno I could suition of mine o me    t somet of my mouth.

        “Be’s Bihzad.”

        My    of its oo    -skinned, beautiful apprentice boys, ead broad, and I . ake an apprentiy palm and, before telling o ion into , frig’s    Black. Reflected in . “e miniaturists are bret noo an end.”

        “how do you mean?”

        I said, “Everyto an end” like a great master erpieces in yle of ts,    ts oyle, a great master tle, t neear apart bound volumes leaving ttle aroy ails t    o explain to Black differently.

        “tration is of t Poet Abdullaifi,” I said. “ifi    t ayed    and toadied up to Ser took . In response, S all to skirts of ty to see ifi, not from Biifi’s face, but from tiration, don’t we?”

        Black looked at me, indig “yes” ty eyes. “ t in the

        painting,” I said, “ it could be a face like any otifi ion in its ey: tion, in ifi’s pose, in tunning er Bi at ondicates ture is of a poet. Meaning precedes form in t. As o paint in imitation of tian masters, as in t Our Sultaiahods…”

        “My Enis iernal peace, was murdered,” Black said rudely.

        I caressed Black’s ed fully stroking tiny ice rate masterpieces. Quietly and reverently    Bierpiece for a time. Later, Black hdrew his hand from mine.

        “e passed quickly over tnut    examining their noses,” he said.

        “to turned back to t see for raordinary about trils of the horses.

        “h peculiar noses?” Black asked like a child.

        But, in t, toered silk and dre fort asleep on a red Us,    pilloome again after so many years, I quickly uood t t begun for me.

        ty-five years ago ing and carrying it. oucy-five years ago, upon tan Süleyman t, Saed to be finally rid of ta along -laden camels    to Süleyman’s successor, Sultan Selim, acular Koran and t beautiful of treasury. First, a Persian ambassadorial delegati took tome to Edirer ing; after it arrived anbul along s carried on camels and mules, or Black Memi and ers    to see t reasury. Just like tanbulites er Black Memi t t Master Bi    for tabriz in    tributed to this book because he’d gone blind.

        For Ottoman miniaturists like us rations, looking tained 25e illustrations, e palace s slept. e stared at t pious reverence as if be ing moment. And for ty-five years reasury.

        I silently opeur rustle, I was overe by melan awe.

        1. Mindful of tories suggesting t all ter miniaturists of Istanbul olen images from t give my full attention to tures.

        2. t I mig devote myself o terpieces t appeared in one of every five or six pictures ( grace did tas, ime of peace, eac, Greek and various other languages!).

        3. ted me from surrendering myself to w I saw.

        Naturally, I ed to find myself    more , despite t lue to    curtain of darkness desded over my eyes—to miniaturists. By time t of daomb, I’d gazed upon eacures in tive book. Since I looked o categorize, as if I ed only in reasoning:1. No resembled c among t Rüstem entered    among Feridun Sraordinary igris after tan o do so; not among tcur’s treac erritave t try, Persia, and far ao tur; not among t included Kians, Berbers and Arabs, all equipped ructible s t killed Sually as a result of t for rebelling against God’s fate—by trampling orative ers eased ion; and not among t urists. Yet, till more tire day ao examireasury.

        2. t ent topic of gossip among master illuminators for t ty-five years: itan, an illustrator ereasury, found tacular book, ope and by dleligo ce rees, clouds, floer use in ist created an amazing and exceptional piece, jealousy prompted suc to belittle ture as not Persian abriz. Back tabriz    Ottomaory. ed at me, I felt justifiably angry, yet secretly proud; but    ot. No in some strange urists y-five years ago ingrais images into our memories, and siransformed, altered and paio tan. My spirits    by tans ake suc of treasuries and so us, but by ting.    be t masters of    or ters of tabriz, Persian artists raordinary illustrations, more masterpieces, ttomans.

        Like a lig occurred to me e it’d be if ts and I    to torture; using t of my penknife I ruture t lay open before me. It    of t a c brougan, before defeati cilessly gouged out ttled mercilessly, of t armor and of severed er doing to to my sash.

        My rembled, but I didn’t feel so bad. Did I noics felt after itting tra ered frequently during my fifty-year tenure as a painter? I ed noto floo the eyes I had blinded.

        3. to torment and solation ai t of t book,    masterful artists for ten years, ouc Bi rendering of o be found. t firmed t Bi years of —ty out of favor—to tabriz. So, I once again decided    after taiion of ters by    master blinded o avoid tainting ing her workshop or shah.

        Just t before me.

        “No, t it,” I said    being trary. “the iron horses of

        Alexander’s iron cavalry    aflame like lamps, before bei against ting from trils.”

        e stared at tings.

        “Jezmi Ager depicted in tan Selim ts t Saed t y-five years ago…”

        ly located tan Selim and placed it in front of me. Paired ly colored page t sing ts to Sultan Selim, my eyes found, among ts    ten because it urquoise-and-moted talent of , Master of Master Illuminators Bi of blinding ed self.

        I asked tan Selim. I folloreasury, meanderi, ets aairiced    tusks and tiger skins. In one e redness of clot, beside t one, and ruby-studded daggers, I sas t Sa: silk carpets from Isfa and an object t immediately caugtention—a pen case decorated te obviously from time of tamerlane. I ope came tle st of burned paper and roseer; ed turquoise-and moto fasten plumes to turbans. I took up turo my spot like a specter.

        Alone again, I placed t Master Bio blind    it. It    t made me s seeing an object aken into his miraculous hands.

        aerrifying needle ed to Sultan Selim? as it because tudent of Biron of artists in ang poets and artists from irely to faito relinquise book,    of masters en years?    t t artist ime, to make tatement t , terpiece by t poigna, afraid t ted a sacrilege trating, as h

        many rulers in their old age.

        I ories told by spiteful illuminators o enter Sy’s legendary or, declared, “I refuse to paint in any otice blind    iron. Among turists t tan Selim t back to Istanbul after t of Sure of tabriz and ter    in ttoman style—not as t of an illness o set an example for to tell my illuminators in ts of frustration how Bihzad had blinded himself.

        as ter miniaturist made use of t-of-t tle, save tire ers?

        tain on tremely s of tly tapered plume needle, yet my    determine . Loion of love c time. I tried to imagine . I’d    one doesn’t go blind immediately; ty darkness desds sloimes after days, sometimes after monturally.

        I’d caug of it    room; I stood and looked, yes, t ed s lengt. I sat do my onessed my    for sixty years.

        “er Bi?” I asked myself once more.

        Never oaking my eyes off ticed movements of a    ation, as if making a    trico be embelliso t eye. My innards sank, not because I felt    because I sao ter t.

        In t o t ernal beauty and ernal life to tself.

        Smiling, I did to my other eye.

        For a long ared at t everything.

        As I’d surmised, t darken, but seemed to bleed ever so gently into one anotill more or less see.

        t of treasury. In tomed ceremony, treasurer and s, lamps and brazier, brougo t inue searcrils an’s books.    could be more exquisite t t beautiful pictures o recollect God’s vision of the world?
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