At about the time of midday prayer I heard a knock at the door. It was Black from long ago, from our childhood. We embraced. He was chill and I invited him inside. I didn’t even ask how he’d found his way to the house. His Enishte must have sent him to question me about Elegant Effendi’s absence and his whereabouts. Not only that, he also brought word from Master Osman. “Allow me to ask you a question,” he said. “According to Master Osman, ”time“ separates a true miniaturist from others: The time of the illustration.” What were my thoughts? Listen closely.

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