s oh, much as we were.

    Be determine from to tell  to arouse fear before torture; inado, I t about tell to save my o be raising quite a ruckus.

    t certainly t attribute my mocking and mirtone to t of a man on torture. But  I mentioned I consider myself one of God’s luckier servants? And if tune t alig ter years of deprivation aren’t proof enougside tyard gate must be some indication.

    Aing my torture, I ed by te fait ect me; I

    palmed it, rubbed it and repeatedly kissed token of good fortune t Alla me. But at ime t me into t room orturers, I kneiless voice ely correct: t  come from God, but  I’d s torturers, I o take refuge.

    I didn’t even notice t tears began to fall from my eyes. I ed to beg, but as in a dream, no sound issued from my moutical assassination and torture ( life could be extinguisantaneously, but I’d never experienced it to strip me from t as tripped off my garments.

    took off my vest and s. One of tioners sat on me, driving o my siced elegance of a urning t its front. Nay, it  a cage, but rat gradually squeezed my head.

    I screamed at top of my lungs. I begged, but incoly. I cried, mostly because my nerves .

    topped momentarily and asked: “ere you te Effendi?”

    I took a deep breath: “Nay.”

    to tig ing.

    they asked again.

    “Nay.”

    “hen?”

    “I don’t know!”

    I ell tly about my ance. I asked myself if I omed to tioners and I stayed still for a moment. I felt no pain, I errif