y brief silence t lasted forever. If t noioned “Deat I’ve come o involve myself in sucely misunderstood te? take off  a knife?

    “So, you’ve come,”  tirely different tone: “elcome, my cell me t is it t you ?”

    It e dark by noered time, revealed a pomegranate and plane tree—to distinguislines of objects  to please a rator. I could not fully see Enis, as usual, before a lo t fell to  side. I tried desperately to recapture timacy betures togetly and quietly discussing t by candleligones, reed pens, ink  of tion or out of embarrassment, but I  moment, I decided to explain myself tory.

    Perist Ser ing ing ry, and in tion of an arcane logic reserved for geometry. After acatus of master painter at a young age, tuoso ouc a full ty years in pursuit of t fearless innovation of subject matter, composition and style. orking in tyle—brougo us by t sense of symmetry, roduced terrifying demons, esticles, ers and giants into tle and sensitive  style of painting;  to take an interest in and be influenced by traiture t ern sugal and Flanders; roduced forgotten tecing back to time of Gengo paint cock-raising scenes like Alexander’s peeping at naked beauties s; ed Our Glorious Prop ascending on teed Burak, scing and sable to tire community of book lovers. , at times secretly, at times openly, drinking large quantities of aking opium,  lasted for ty years. Later,

    in  time, cely. Coming to t every painting y years ’s more, ed ty years of o going from palace to palace, from