died； opening the way for my own
advancement； how I stared as a child from my grandmother’s lap at red shirts
while my mother hung the laundry to dry in the courtyard； how I ran to
distant neighborhoods in search of the midwife when Shekure’s mother； may
she rest in peace； had gone into labor； the location of the red belt I’d lost over
forty years ago （I know now that Vasfi stole it）； the splendid garden in the
distance that I’d dreamed about once twenty…one years ago； which I pray Allah
will one day confirm is Heaven； the severed heads； noses； and ears sent to
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Istanbul by Ali Bey； the Governor…General of Georgia； who suppressed the
rebels in the fortress of Gori； and my beautiful； dear Shekure； who separated
herself from the neighborhood women mourning over me in the house and
stared into the flames of the brick stove in our courtyard。
As is recorded in books and confirmed by scholars； the soul dwells in four
realms： 1。 the womb； 2。 the terrestrial world； 3。 Berzah； or divine limbo； where
I now await Judgment Day； and 4。 Heaven or Hell； where I will arrive after the
Judgment。
From the intermediate state of Berzah； past and present time appear at
once； and as long as the soul remains within its memories； limitations of place
do not obtain。 Only when one escapes the dungeons of time and space does it
bees evident that life is a straitjacket。 However blissful it is being a soul
without a body in the realm of the dead； so too is being a body without a soul
among the living； what a pity nobody realizes this before