words　that　now　emerged　from　his　mouth　as　if　on　their　own：

“I’d　like　to　depict　how　the　blind　and　the　seeing　are　not　equal！”

“Who　are　the　blind　and　the　seeing？”　Black　said　naively。

“The　blind　and　the　seeing　are　not　equal；　it’s　what　‘ve　ma　yestevil’ama　ve’l

basiru’nun　means；”　Butterfly　said　and　continued：

411

“…nor　are　the　darkness　and　the　light。

The　shade　and　the　heat　are　not　equal；

nor　are　the　living　and　the　dead。“

I　shuddered　for　an　instant；　thinking　of　the　fates　of　Elegant　Effendi；　Enishte

and our storyteller brother who was killed tonight。 Were the others as

frightened as I？ Nobody moved for a time。 Stork was still holding my book

open；　but　seemed　not　to　see　the　vulgarity　I’d　painted　though　we　were　all　still

staring　at　it！

“I’d want to paint Judgment Day；” said Stork。 “The resurrection of the

dead； and the separation of the guilty from the innocent。 Why is it that we

cannot　depict　the　Sacred　Word　of　our　faith？”

In our youth； working together in the same room of our workshop； we

would　periodically　lift　our　faces　from　our　work　boards　and　tables；　just　as　the

aging　masters　would　do　to　rest　their　eyes；　and　begin　talking　about　any　topic

that happened to enter our minds。 Back then； just as we now did while

looking at the book open before us； we didn’t