to fall at a late inued till da t reading Ster again and again. I paced in ty room of ty oick; in t of tcense quivering of my beloved’s angry letters, ts turned trying to deceive me and t-to-left progression. Abruptly, tters ured and ripened in my imagination.

    In t I lost myself in dreams of marriage: I s about my love or t it ed—ate of great contentment—but, my imaginary  in a aircase, e o make her heed my words.

    I kneed tion on ts as a bac time, I recalled t tually advice on ts of marriage in t same section, ts: first,  in order (t of self-abuse and of dragging myself—an even deeper sense of guilt—beo titutes.

    t of salvation at te  masturbation to mind.

    ito rid my mind of tired to a corner of t, but after a er twelve years!

    truck sucement and fear into my  t I remble like t to present  tter, e belief into play?  tuttering as I myself did, rying to creak to my every question.

    I looked at ture I’d made years ago,   didn’t

    embarrass me as it  came to mind in subsequent years, nor did it bring back my ouation: By returning ture, Sory cerfully luring me into. I sat in t and e ter of response.

    In ter sleeping for a spell, I  out and reets, carrying tter upon my breast and my ligom, in my sasanbul’s narroreets and freed ty of its croer and slo’d been in my co  Istanbul’s roofs, domes and gardens just as ter days of my youtly, listening to my steps in tced, expecting t my Enised me to visit to be as silent as treets. Befor