ink of me as a mon murderer rather than a genuinely talented
miniaturist。
Out of the corner of my eye I am watching that fool Black Effendi whom
Enishte brought with him。 When these two broke away from the cemetery
crowd presently dispersing； and walked down to the Eyüp quay； I followed
them。 They boarded a four…oared longboat； and afterward； I got into a six…oar
along with a few young apprentices who’d forgotten about the deceased and
the funeral and were making merry。 Within sight of the Phanar Gate； our
boats momentarily came so near each other that they were about to lock oars；
and I could see clearly that Black was earnestly whispering to Enishte。 I
thereupon thought how easy it was to end a life。 My dear God； you’ve given
each of us this unbelievable power； but you’ve also made us afraid to exercise
it。
Still； if a man but once overes this fear and acts； he straightaway
bees an entirely different person。 There was a time when I was terrified
not only of the Devil； but of the slightest trace of evil within me。 Now；
however； I have the sense that evil can be endured； and moreover； that it’s
indispensable to an artist。 After I killed that miserable excuse of a man；
discounting the trembling in my hands which lasted only a few days； I drew
better； I made use of brighter and bolder colors； and most important； realized
that I could conjure up wonders in my imagination。 But； this begs the
question how many men in Istanbul can truly appreciate the magnificence of
my illustrations？
Off