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“book of costumes” and engaged me in a bout of vicious bargaining。 Having
agreed that morning upon a lesser…quality book of costumes for a price of
twenty silver pieces; I proceeded to illustrate a dozen Istanbulites in a single
sitting around the time of the evening prayer; paying particular attention to
the detail of their outfits。 I drew a Sheikhulislam; a palace porter; a preacher; a
Janissary; a dervish; a cavalryman; a judge; a liver seller; an executioner—
executioners in the act of torture sold quite well—a beggar; a woman bound
for the hamam; and an opium addict。 I’d done so many of these books just to
earn a few extra silver pieces that I began to invent games for myself to fight
off boredom while I drew; for example; I forced myself to draw the judge
without lifting my pen off the page or to draw the beggar with my eyes closed。
All brigands; poets and men of constant sorrow know that when the
evening prayer is called the jinns and demons within them will grow agitated
and rebellious; urging in unision: “Out! Outside!” This restless inner voice
demands; “Seek the pany of others; seek blackness; misery and disgrace。”
I’ve spent my time appeasing these jinns and demons。 I’ve painted pictures;
which many regard as miracles that have issued from my hands; with the help
of these evil spirits。 But for seven days now after dusk; since I murdered that
disgrace; I’m no longer able to control the jinns and demons within me。 They
rage with such violence that I tell myself they might calm down if I go out for
a while。
After saying so; as always without knowing how; I found myself roaming
through the night。 I walked briskly; advancing through snowy streets; muddy
passages; icy slopes and deserted sidewalks as if I would never stop。 As I
walked; descending into the dark of night; into the most remote and
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abandoned parts of the city; I’d ever so gradually leave my soul behind; and
walking along the narrow streets; my footsteps echoing off the walls of stone
inns; schools and mosques; my fears would subside。
Of their own accord; my feet brought me to the abandoned streets of this
neighborhood on the outskirts of the city; where I came each night and where
even specters and jinns would shudder to roam。 I heard tell that half the men
in this neighborhood had perished in the wars with Persia and that the rest
had fled; declaring it ill…omened; but I don’t believe such superstition。 The
only tragedy that has befallen this good quarter on account of the Safavid wars
was the closing of the Kalenderi dervish house forty years ago because it was
suspected of harboring the enemy。
I meandered behind the mulberry bushes and the bay…leaf trees; which had
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