I can ions already: “My dear Storyteller Effendi, you migo imitate anyone or anyt never a I beg to differ. true, I’ve y to city, imitating everyto t at ivals and coffeeil my voice gave out, and t to marry, but t mean I’m unacquainted h womenfolk.
I knoe , I’ve kno in eternal peace; 2. my beloved aunt; 3. t me), !” on one of t an open ravels. Despite never toward ill do. Perhaps, by now, she’s passed away.
Seeing a o nessing y opens to bot and deep spiritual pain in us men, and t of all alternatives is not to lay eyes on ty first being laates. to seek out tiful boys, a satisfactory surrogate for females, and in due time, too, becomes a s . In ties of t exposing not only t also tly ser t attractive feature), tiful ts, and even, if ion of t, ties difficulty, embarrassed and in extreme pain, because, you see, t sides are al and t naturally leads to ty. Undoubtedly, tress to us Ottomans.
After realizing, t recipe for my spiritual entment o live far from beautiful tures. At t time, since I seen any , my curiosity assumed a mystical quality, my o tingle, and I kne I could only learn if I did e e, said ated t to my grandfathe
sold tayed at home.
“Come along. Look, you’ll entertain us by mimicking trees and ry. ’ll you do in peace.
“I’m going to put on your dresses and become a omacs.”
“Don’t be sucle.”
I so you, my painter and calligraply once t and I donned to my noed mot, as s I learned t day about being a me first state fort t contrary to en read in books and feel like the Devil.
Not at all! le sense of as sensitive as souc my bare skin of my aunt’s pistac, ion too nurse everybody and cook for ter I understood to some extent o s, I stuffed my c ever I could find—socks and and to be a large-breasted it, I an. I understood at once t men, merely catc of t breasts, rive to take to t quite po is t ed? I ed boto be poo be t of pity; I ed a ricelligent man, o fall madly in love I also feared sucs made of ted gold t my mot ttom of rousseau c next to ts embroidered ed ened ’s evergreen cloak and putting on ter gatared at myself in t touc I raordinarily attractive ook note of t before even I . Naturally, t me.
In tceardrop slide from my lovely eye and just to mind. I’ve never been able to forget it, because at t same moment, inspired by ty, I sang t poem rrying to forget my w.
My ots insist I be a woman when I’m a man and a man when I’m a woman.
it is being human, even worse is living a human’s life.
I only to amuse myself frontside and backside, to be Eastern and estern both.
I o say, “Let’s ,” for t all. Listen, I’m not saying t I’ve learned famous preaced Not--by-a-Longs Effendi, despite being married, prefers o us as you sensitive painters do. I’m just telling you o any of teet and as t close to inks, excuse the expression, like a bear’s ass.
All rigo return to t iful I ed to reets like a slave. Poverty, tears, sorro a mirror of disappointment and crying are t of sad and ugly find a me on a pedestal, but be?
t ed to our exts. I ed my predicament to resemble t of tite-mouty s love. Per’d be best for me to describe to you poor Sory. But a minute, I’d promised to recount tory tonigory told by a oman Prompted by t’s quite simple actually. tory takes place in Kemerüstü, one of tanbul. A prominent inant of t, secretary to Vas 1f Pasleman o c of a black-all and ty, and is smitten. But, terest ed to o confide o anybody, and reduced by love to skin and bone, takes to ultimately first, because tories and admire and respect t it and letting life take its course. But t control o get drunk eac and sit at tep of ty lives as to beat o comfort ed a gentleman, learns to cry in las or annoying anybody. But gradually, s o ts lose tain
ially, talk of misery spreads t turn tune and later tainty of doom. Some move ae of bad luck and some are unable to practice t, because t to er ties out, one day ty and une, of apart. toget of to be happy.
I ory because it sfulls of love and en t I’d lost my capacity to reason. Since I’m noo say sometirely. All rig’s somethis:Oh, how wonderful love is!
Norangers bursting the door?