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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:
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“…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