lt for a delicately featured, copper-complexioned, burgundy-mouty during my travels. ituition, Sood boto and torture for love’s sake as  tisfaction of  time y of beauties, So an inkh pearls.

    less S to go no  t moment  t e dark, altill time before nigs oion, to  like a wounded sparrow, she quickly hopped away.

    “Am I still beautiful? Answer me quickly.”

    I told ifully sened to me, believing and agreeing  I said.

    “And my clothes?”

    I told her.

    “Do I smell nice?”

    Of course, S o as “love c consist of sucorical games, but of tional maneuvers between lovers.

    “ kind of living do you expect to earn?” so care for my fatherless children?”

    As I talked about my more tal and secretarial experience, t knotle and nessing deats, I embraced her.

    “ifully s primal mystery.”

    to prove iger  it for ting I’d made for  my ion t ime I didn’t find myself immobilized by a staggering yoke of lust; botunned by ttering—like a flock of sparro ered our s, cs and stomac lovemaking t antidote to love?

    As I palmed s, Sermined and ser  I  a mature-enougo maintain a trust I’d sullied beforeo forget t t involved in any y deeds and too inexperienced to kno suffering underlie o sigo treets, , and forgetting t urbing t of t:

    “ are o do now?”

    “I don’t knoe footprints in tain to be erased by teness—and disappeared quietly.

    I ILL BE CALLED A MURDERERDoubtless, you too  I’m about to describe: At times, reets of Istanbul