permitted　to　marry　us　or　that　we’ll　never　reach　such…and…such　a　station　in　life。

I was watching the rise and fall of Black’s shoulders； his head and his

neck—the incredibly annoying way that he walked； as though his every step

were　a　gift　to　the　world—with　a　profound　hatred　that　coiled　cozily　around　my

heart。 Men like Black； free from pangs of conscience and with promising

futures before them； assume that the entire world is their home； they open

every　door　like　a　sultan　entering　his　personal　stable　and　immediately　belittle

those　of　us　crouched　inside。　The　urge　to　grab　a　stone　and　run　up　behind　him

was　almost　too　great　to　resist。

We　were　two　men　in　love　with　the　same　woman；　he　was　in　front　of　me　and

pletely unaware of my presence as we walked through the turning and

twisting　streets　of　Istanbul；　climbing　and　descending；　we　traveled　like　brethren

through deserted streets given over to battling packs of stray dogs； passed

burnt　ruins　where　jinns　loitered；　mosque　courtyards　where　angels　reclined　on

domes to sleep； beside cypress trees murmuring to the souls of the dead；

beyond　the　edges　of　snow…covered　cemeteries　crowded　with　ghosts；　just　out　of

sight　of　brigands　strangling　their　victims；　passed　endless　shops；　stables；　dervish

houses；　candle　works；　leather　works　and　stone　walls；