s expanded, on a distant place beyond treasury.

    “tyle of ters of ,  of Ss!”

    Pero describe t picture as if reciting a melancers. “My great master, my dear sire,” on a strange impulse, I interrupted  I  to stare at for all eternity is my beloved’s delicate face. It’s been t of er seeing ure reminds me of none othan her.”

    ter Osman’s face, curiosity per it o do neitory nor tle scene before o be expecting good ne.  looking at me, I abruptly grabbed the plume needle and walked away.

    In a dark part of treasury rooms, tting ttered range clocks sent as presents from Frankisopped  time, t aside o tinized t Master Osman claimed Bio blind himself.

    By t filtering inside, reflecting off tal faces and diamonds of ty and broken clocks, tip of ted er Biually blinded ? er Osman done terrible to ed, attaco to say “Yes!” Evidently, urban  of t it, and  of Our Sultan and the women of his harem.

    I looked te a fes of pasies and belongings ed after ted t t number. itiless joy, t any pasoxicated by o forget  of tan and to ed o be executed and ed. Even in ted manuscripts or illustrated collections of poetry, opped and stared.

    ture ure, t is, ture of ered during ryside outing, ail, not because miniaturists couldn’t adequately depict someterity and finesse to paint upon fingernails, grains of rice or even strands of  tures of  of Sail so t  be recognized? Sometime in ternoon, pero forget my  I’d broacions to Master Osman, I ruck by ture of a bridal proce