Silent and unseen, under cover of early m darkness, I left like a guilty houseguest and walked tirelessly through the muddy backstreets. At Bayazid, I performed my ablution in the courtyard, ehe mosque and prayed. Ihere was no o the Imam Effendi and an old man who could sleep as he prayed—a talent only rarely achieved after a lifetime of practice. You know how there are moments in our sleepy dreams and sad memories when we feel Allah has taken notice of us and we pray
with the hopeful anticipation of one who’s mao thrust a petition into the Sultan’s hand: Thus did I beg Allah to grant me a cheerful home filled with loving people.
When I’d reached Master Osman’s house, I khat within a week’s time he’d gradually usurped my late Enishte’s pla my thoughts. He was more trary and more distant, but his belief in manuscript illumination was more profound. He resembled an introspective elderly dervish more than the great master who’d kicked up tempests ……（内容加载失败！）
(ò﹏ò)
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