in treasury safe from prying eyes. I greient to find t e me ed me at t I’d been loato believe t t master mig to stay in treasury as long as possible.

    t in opening ots, ots so examine tures t fed up ures, c Sle er’s side— even a glance at trils of try to  tfully and aruck among t rooms of treasury. At times, prompted by an abrupt cry and ure by Master Osman, I’d imagine t a neerpiece  last a o  ture ter remble as  curled up on an Us dating from time of Sultan Meo encounter an illustration, ting, say, Satan slyly boarding Noah’s ark.

    e cans and kime of tamerlane to Sultan Süleyman t—edly ed gazelles, lions and rabbits. e sa tood upon scraps of ied to te t c of t  of a myt volume, o t page,  S, in ration t brougo life ted clock made from bobbins and metal balls, birds and Arabic statuettes seated on t, ime.

    I don’t kno examining book after book and illustration after illustration in t ime revealed in tures and stories reasury. It seemed t ted pages, created over turies by ture of eyesigless sans, o life, as s t seemed to besiege us: ts, scimitars, daggers udded y and delicate lutes, and tless illustrations.

    “I noand t by furtively and gradually re-creating tures for ists ed transformation of to another.”

    I’ll be first to admit t I didn’t completely understand  master meant. But the close

    attention my master o tures made over t tabriz to Bago Istanbul, ion of some rils. e’d participated in a kind of melanco tion, talent and patience of a