from THE HIDDEN Mahrem (2001). Istanbul: Metis Yayinlari, pp. 81-94 (some changes in the text -- especially in the "dictionary entries" -- have been made by the translator with the author's consent).

Author: Elif Safak Translator(s): Erdag Goknar Genre: novel

"It's what I call the Dictionary of Gazes, Sweetheart," B-J said pointing to the computer screen like somebody who'd finally introduced his two most cherished friends to each other, assuming they'd hit it off right away.
"Where did you come up with this idea?" I asked.
"Where? It was already there. It's always been there. Just think, all of our troubles, plans, passions, pleasures, and memories…even our place in this world…and even, yes even, our love…all of it, every last bit has to do with seeing and being seen. Listen, this is exactly what the Dictionary of Gazes will show entry-by-entry. At first, the definitions might seem unrelated, but actually, all are about looking and being looked at, and so, each entry cleverly relates to all the others. What I mean is, essentially, each definition will become part of the same whole. This way, the Dictionary of Gazes will be a patchwork shaman's robe woven of one single thread. So, what do you think about it?"
I smiled. Oh how B-J, a dwarf no less, loved to make pompous statements. I entered the kitchen and looked for a snack to have with my tea. Thankfully some of the small, round, apricot-marmalade cakes I bought at the pastry shop yesterday were still there. When I returned to the living room carrying my plate, I was greeted by a long face.
"You'll see," he said without being able to hide his hurt, "I'll prove to you why the Dictionary of Gazes is important."

abdal (dervish): Sultans would often wander through the serpentine streets of the city of cities Istanbul in disguise. Sometimes they'd bestow favors, most times they'd mete out punishment.
Mustafa the Third was quite fond of dressing up like a dervish. He'd roam over every inch of the city; a dervish on the outside, a sultan within.
One day, Feyzullah, wrongly dismissed from his office in the province of Corum, came to Istanbul and recognized the sultan who was roaming in disguise in the midst of the Uskudar bazaar. He explained to the sultan how he'd run into hard times and asked for help, shouting, "Either give me the bread I'm due or kill me!"
Mustafa the Third lowered his gaze carefully at Feyzullah. The eye that could see the sultan-within-the-dervish might be a nuisance, quite a nuisance. He made his decision then and there. He withheld the bread...

To make up to him, I wanted to let him know that he didn't have to prove anything to me, but he shoved my hand away roughly as I tried to stroke his hair. He didn't want to taste any of the apricot-marmalade cakes either. When he looked at me this way, his dark bitter-chocolate eyes seemed like shadows drawn with a thin watercolor brush. My hands trembled as if I was the one who was responsible for re-drawing those delicate facial lines. I was scared that I'd use too much water, that the paint would run, and his eyes would be wiped away. At times like this, I couldn't stop staring at the peculiarity of his eyes.

Adem ile Havva (Adam and Eve): Adam and Eve, when they tasted of the forbidden fruit, for the first time, saw how they were different from each other. Embarrassed, they tried to cover their nakedness with fig leaves. But one of them needed only one whereas the other needed three. After they learned to count, they could never be the same again.

The following days were all alike. B-J stayed at home in the mornings and I went to work. When I left, he'd still be asleep. When I returned, I'd find him laboring over the Dictionary of Gazes. Depending on the day, he'd greet me either with an excessive show of melancholy, indifference, or enthusiasm. And at times, his eyes would close in that particular way and I wouldn't know what he felt at all. The Dictionary of Gazes not only determined his mood, but the shape of the rest of the day as well.
Yet there were also parts of our life that the Dictionary of Gazes couldn't change. Like paying the rent. B-J seemed to think this wasn't important. He'd stopped doing everything else and devoted all his time to his lexicon. This change affected the owner of the artists' studio the most. Just when he was about to have B-J model not only on Mondays, but every night, B-J had quit. Afterward, the owner made back-to-back phone calls explaining over and over how his students wanted to work with B-J in particular, that modeling didn't take up much time anyway, how the owner would be hard-pressed, at such a late date, to find a model like B-J who interested everybody, and if necessary, how he could give B-J a raise. It was of no use, really. B-J would do absolutely nothing but work on his dictionary.

Anka (Phoenix): A mythical bird that derives its strength and beauty from everyone who desires to see its never-before-seen strength and beauty.

Meanwhile, I found a part-time job as a teacher at one of the new nursery schools that were opening up throughout Istanbul. Though the pay wasn't much, the work conditions were very good. All I had to do from morning to noon was sing songs, color pictures, make-up stories, and play with colored clay together with the children in my class. At one thirty we had a lunch break. Our cook made a different meal each day based on what the parents wanted. But if you ask me, we had meat-and-potatoes every day. The "meat" consisted of ground beef, chicken, fish, bulgur, or even soy. The potatoes never changed. And we continually drank glassful after glassful of milk. The children snickered openly at the way I drank my milk. We had a new pudding flavor each day for dessert. After lunch, the little ones would take a nap. I'd return to the classroom, and after helping tidy up, someone else would take over in my place. The director of the nursery talked to me often and told me that the parents wanted me to work full days. According to her, they liked me a lot. When they came to pick up their children in the evenings, they wanted to see me there, standing before them.
But I wasn't any better than any of the other teachers. I was only much much heavier. My appearance instilled trust in the fathers and mothers. So long as I was watching over the kids, they were less worried the children would fall and injure themselves, roughhouse, or play with sharp objects. I softened all the movements around me like a giant balloon filled with dreams of strawberry pudding. When I was around, knives were less sharp, the corners of tables less pointed, pushing and shoving was gentler, and even, the slides in the yard were less slippery. Around me, the children were safe and sound. Evidently, I was made for the job.
But I can't tell you how hard it was for me to go the nursery school in the mornings. To tell the truth, I didn't want to do anything that involved leaving the Shadowplay Apartments. As soon as I opened the front door, I'd be seized by the desire to return home. I didn't like it out there.
Outside was the land of attributes. The children at the nursery loved to remind me of my weight. You know how your hair smells like smoke when you come home after spending a day where people chain-smoke; well, when I came home I could smell the letters that spelled "f-a-t-s-o" in my hair. The first thing I did when I returned every day was to wash my hair. The tangled letters would spin around the drain of the tub and disappear. No matter how many times I shampooed my hair, however, some of the letters remained. They stuck there like burs. At such times B-J would come to my aid and one-by-one remove the 'f's, 'a's, 't's, 's's, and 'o's.
Then one day I decided to dye my hair. It was clear that I couldn't save myself from the letters that spelled "f-a-t-s-o." But with the right color, I could make them invisible; just like a sweater whose design hides stains.

ask (love): In the arms of her lover the widow murmured "what they call love ought to be forbidden. And what's forbidden should be far from prying eyes."
The young man, however, wanted everyone to see how he made love to the widow. He wanted to show others that he was a grown man.
Meanwhile, one day, the young man managed to open the room that always stayed locked. "Oh my god!" he cried. "Is this why you've locked everybody into this room? Did you do this so no one would see us?" As he waited for his answer, the widow locked the door of the house on the naïve young man and left.
On the road, the widow encountered a caterpillar. "Will you be my secret lover?" she asked him. "Why keep it secret?" said the caterpillar. "I want everybody to see your love for me. That way my ugliness will fade." The widow watched the caterpillar nibble away at leaves for a while. Then she locked the entire world on the ugly caterpillar.
She found herself face-to-face with all creation, and asked it the same question. Aged creation said, "I want everybody to see your love for me. That way I'll appear young again." The widow shrugged her shoulders. She had a huge ring of keys in her pocket anyway. She locked creation in on itself.
When she went to continue on her way, however, she stepped into nothingness. As she fell she took yet another key out of her pocket but there was no lock anywhere in sight. Nothingness grumbled to her, "Are you stupid or what? What business would a lock have in a void? You won't find anything but emptiness here." The widow looked at nothingness with admiration and awe. "Then let me stay with you, I beg of you. You're the one I've been looking for!"
"Absolutely not," said the void. "If you stayed with me you'd fill up my emptiness so I'd no longer be who I am."
Afterward, nothingness said sweetly, "go on, go back now," as if wanting to make up for his previous rudeness. "Go back and unlock all of the locks. Let everyone out. You need them."
Heeding the words of the void, the widow freed all the prisoners who rushed out pushing and shoving; muddleheaded from their freedom, they wounded each other as they ran here and there. To avoid seeing any more of this commotion, she locked herself in her own house. From then on, she forbade herself any love.

The catalogue of colors they handed me at the hair salon was magnificent. The locks of hair were like a palette of colors, but more than the colors themselves, their names enchanted me. Under the copper-colored curl of hair, for example, I read, Train Station Farewell at Dusk; under an assertive red tone, Otherwise Known as Seductive; under an ashen lock, What the Fireplace Knows; under a yellow sample, Natural Blond; and as for a dark walnut lock, Walnuts Roasting in the Evening. I fondled the locks with my finger one-by-one. If it were left to me, I'd name each of the variously colored samples something having to do with food. Since my girlhood, colors always reminded me of food. As I pondered, I looked carefully at my finger. In a fluster, I hid it away because I'd bitten my nail away; I didn't want anyone to see.
After a lot of hesitation, I decided on a lock of hair with silvery undertones. It was called Coal-bin Black.
"That'll suit you well," said the hairdresser. "It'll thin-out your face."
I didn't respond. I didn't match his smiles with smiles of my own. I stared at him through the large mirror in front of me. He grew uncomfortable and avoided my eyes. I hate it when they think fat people are stupid.

ay (moon): One night after having drunk his fill and setting out in his rowboat, the poet Li Po saw the moon, which he expected to see in the distant sky, beside the boat in the water. When he went to embrace it, it wasn't the moon he took into his arms, but death.

When I returned I found B-J pacing angrily through the apartment. He immediately noticed the change in my hair. He said a few sweet things to me, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere. I'd never seen him this tense before.
"At this rate, it'll take a dog's age to finish this dictionary," he complained as I was preparing some snacks in the kitchen.
"C'mon, it's only been a few days since you started. I'm not even sure what you've done so far anyway."
"Let's get outta here then!" he shouted suddenly. "I don't wanna be cooped-up here tonight. Let's go out."
Was he out of his mind? How could we go out? We weren't an appropriate match. And I wasn't one of these women who just looked petite and chubby despite all of her pounds… Not only my girth, but my height was far above average so that B-J and I standing side-by-side were a shocking contradiction in size. When we were beside each other we clashed so much that we couldn't even think about going out together. If we tried to walk down the streets hand-in-hand like other lovers, everyone would probably die of laughter. As my three-and-a-half-foot lover tried to keep up with the strides of my two-hundred-ninety-pound body, they'd point us out and stare, and without feeling the need to suppress the sarcastic smiles on their faces, they'd think about whether and how we made love. They wouldn't be able to take their eyes off the hilarious scene before them even for a second. They might talk about the visual clash of a fat woman and a dwarf for days.
Separately, B-J and I had been a spectacle for people for some time. But now, when we came together, especially when we tried to hold hands, we weren't only a spectacle, but also a source of great amusement. Alone we looked odd, side-by-side we looked both odd and funny. We were unsightly. For this reason, you see, there was no place like the Shadowplay Apartments. Here, life was hidden, immune from people's gazes and from the harassment of their eyes.

ay cicegi (sunflower): When the sunflower fell in love with the sun, all the plants burst out laughing. "The sun wouldn't leave his throne in the sky for even an instant," they all said in unison, "he's all powerful and unattainable. Who are you next to him? Forget about this love affair." The sunflower fell silent. She trained her passion-filled eyes on the sun and gazed and gazed and gazed.
The sun, unaware of anything for a long time, one day finally sensed the stare of the sunflower upon him. At first, he thought this was just passing interest, but in time he knew he was mistaken. The sunflower was so stubborn that she faithfully and tirelessly turned her head in whichever direction the sun moved his throne.
Meanwhile, one afternoon, the sun had enough of being stalked and scorched the sunflower with bright yellow wrath. While black smoke was yet rising from the sunflower, people rushed to the site of the incident. "Hurray!" said one of the crowd, "we'll be able to eat the seeds of this love."

"We're gonna go out?" I said. "Aren't we keeping out of sight any more? Could you please tell me what's changed suddenly?"
"I've found a way out of our dilemma," he said lowering his voice and squinting his small bitter-chocolate-brown eyes with childlike glee. He waited in silence for a while just to heighten my curiosity before saying, "You and I are going out tonight – in disguise!"

ay tutulmasi (lunar eclipse): At times the moon in the sky succeeds in hiding from the eyes of the people of the earth. Taking advantage of this moment when nobody's looking, she'll re-powder her face.

As he was getting ready, he continued talking. Almost all sultans resorted to this method in order to personally see what their empires were like when observed from outside the palace walls. And now, we would conform to this royal tradition and change our appearances. We could go out together as long as we didn't look like ourselves.

ayn-el-yakîn (glance-of-certainty): The ability to see God with the eye of the heart; the glance-of-certainty is the second of three levels of knowing.

He shaved carefully. After I wiped away the shaving cream, his skin smelled of peaches. The way his lips quivered in the breeze of his excitement made me shudder. He undressed behind the folding screen. He stepped back out and was wearing one of my bras. As I was trying to figure out what he was stuffing it with, my eyes fell to his hips. He glided by, flirtatiously swinging them back and forth. I looked at him nervously. Watching this man I loved struck terror into me: his manner, which I'd never before seen, seemed to break from the past, deny the present and alienate me. How did he take to his new appearance with such ease? It seemed his personality changed along with his looks.
I was distressed. Going outside of the Shadowplay Apartments with B-J struck fear into my heart. No matter how we disguised ourselves, how much and to what degree could we truly hide from the eyes of strangers? We weren't suited to any eye at all. Even if we were disguised, even if it were nighttime, we weren't a well-matched pair.
I was afraid to go out. I didn't like it out there.

ayna (mirror): As with all things, people also forget about love. And not after it has flourished and died out, grown cold and faded away, but as it's speeding along at full gallop.
Thank goodness for Venus in the third level of the heavens. Those who can't remember whether they're still in love, and if they are, whom they love, go up the third level of the heavens and look into the mirror of love that Venus holds. The face they see there is the face of their beloved.
They say that some people see only blackness in the mirror. Their memories aren't to blame: it isn't their memories, but their hearts that have faltered.

He stood before me wearing olive-paste-black mascara, fake eyelashes, butterfly glasses, blackberry-jam eye shadow, and gold glitter around his eyes; bronze foundation and powder blush on his face, sour-cherry lipstick on his lips which were lined with makeup pencil; a corn-yellow wig on his head; fishnet stockings on his legs; incredible high-heels on his feet (which made him seem much much taller); and a gauzy leaf-patterned dress that swept the ground. He wore large hoop earrings, coral necklaces around his neck, a cluster of jingling bracelets on his wrists, enormous rings on his fingers, a pea-green snake-skin on one shoulder, and a sad, furry animal's tail on the other.
When? How had he become like this? As I touched him to try to fathom this mystery, he flapped his fake eyelashes and giggled. He was now in a completely different mood, and if I didn't act quickly, it was obvious that he was going out in disguise alone. I began to get ready in a fluster.

Babil Kulesi (the Tower of Babel): Humans were so curious about God that they decided to build a tower that reached the highest heaven. The building quickly took shape. All of the laborers worked eagerly and in harmony. But just as the seventh heaven was being reached, God gave each of the workers a different language. Since nobody could understand anyone else, the construction stopped.
Indeed, God wishes not to be seen.

It took hours. Both B-J and I pulled and tugged on the strings of the girdle and we were eventually able to squeeze in my layers and layers of fat. I was covered in sweat. My fatty flesh, used to spreading out freely, was stunned at this unexpected torture. Some of it was weeping torrents of grief; some of it was cursing up a storm; some of it was blubbering and begging for mercy. Some of it, slyly seeking a hole or a tear in the girdle from which to squeeze out, was forced to give up quickly. The girdle had tightened around me and squeezed me so tight that it was a miracle I could even move. I was under siege; my fat had nowhere to escape, neither north, south, east or west.

Basilisk: A reptile whose look is poisonous and whose venom deadly. The Basilisk was the nightmare of adventurers who set sail for unknown regions. They would carry all variety of protective objects to shield themselves from its poisonous glances, though the smartest of them needed nothing but a mirror.
In that life, what else could stop the Basilisk but its own reflection?

The rest of the preparations went quickly. After all that effort, I had neither strength nor patience. I sprinkled great quantities of hair all over myself. My hands, chest, and legs were covered in hair. I combed back my coal-bin black hair and gathered it under my cap. My moustache wasn't very full, but it was adequate. And there was no need for a beard. I'd become a young tough. With a gesture of my eyebrow, I commanded B-J to "Walk ahead of me!" As I locked the door, he giggled on the stairs.
He was right. No one would recognize us like this.

baykus (owl): Aunts and uncles feed canaries. They like doves, praise eagles, train pigeons, chase crows, and make parrots talk. But children like owls. As Turks say, "That bird's nothing but bad luck. Don't mention its name. Don't invite it to perch on the roof." The owl is considered bad luck because it sees at night, because it can see the night.

That night, without losing sight of the main street, we walked through the sidestreets and alleyways of Istanbul. At each step, the smells of food wafted over me. My nose was constantly tracking smells through a mass of confusion where the most exquisite aromas mingled with the most disgusting, where nothing smelled the way it should. I had to eat something at once. The girdle squeezed and B-J pulled me along. Finally, after passing yet another street-seller's tray of stuffed mussels, I couldn't resist any longer. Before long, the mussel-seller was setting aside the empty shells two at a time as he laughed with shaking shoulders and said, "bon appetite, my friend."
It had indeed hit the spot, but meanwhile B-J was getting further out of control. At every bar we passed he insisted on tossing back a few beers; if he couldn't, he'd make a scene. The more he drank, the wilder he became; the wilder he became, the more he drank. When he got it into his head to pinch the cheeks of the monstrous bouncers waiting at the door-fronts of bars, however, I couldn't stand it any more. I tried to grab him by the arm and drag him away. My head was throbbing with anger. As I grew angry, I grew hungry. While I thought about where I might get some grilled flatbread, B-J was muttering something to the effect of, "I'm a free woman, I can do what I want." Grabbing him roughly by the arm, I began dragging him toward the flatbread shop at the top of the street. I was, at that moment, dying of hunger brought on by an absurd argument as, oh so close, a freshly rolled-out circle of thin flatbread was cooking and soaking up its butter to popping sounds on the griddle. I had to hurry. But I'd barely taken two steps when a voice calling from behind froze me in my tracks.
"Hey, why dontcha leave the lady alone."
"And who d'you think you're talking to?" I blustered to the block-head striding aggressively toward me. Despite the girdle, I must've looked imposing. But the man didn't seem to be afraid of me.
"I said 'lady,' what of it? Or ain't she one?"

cemal (beauty): In Sufism, a beautiful face is God's manifestpation as goodness and grace.

B-J wound the strands of his corn-yellow wig hair around his finger and smiled at us in a way that made the blood in my veins freeze.
To be certain about what kind of 'lady' we were risking our heads for, both the stranger and I stopped and examined her just as we were on the verge of going at it. And both of us decided not to drag this business out any longer. I told the man to get lost in a gruff voice. He made a short speech about avoiding unnecessary trouble. Without neglecting to glare menacingly, we began stepping away from one another, but suddenly, at the same time, both of us bumped into the same invisible wall.

cennet - cehennem (heaven - hell): The eyes of those who have been granted entrance into heaven after having suffered in hell for their sins must abandon what they've seen there before entering.

Groping with my hands, I began to move along the transparent wall that surrounded me. When I circled halfway around, I was again nose-to-nose with the thug. As far as I could tell, he'd also circled around to me, feeling his way just as I had. We'd traced out the transparent wall and were toe-to-toe again. A crowd formed around us. We were surrounded by eyes swarming to watch a fight. There was only one way to get out of this ring: by fighting! It was then I knew that the flames of every street fight spread through eyes that have collected there to watch a brawl. Every street fight is started by spectators.

ceviz agaci (walnut tree): The walnut tree etched what it saw onto the shells of its walnuts. For this reason, no one wanted to make love under this tree.

I landed my first blow to his stomach. He fell to the ground doubled over. I thought he wouldn't be able to easily collect himself and get back up, but I was mistaken. Obviously, he wasn't a novice like I was. He struck me on the nose. I felt like I was going to faint. My blood was lukewarm on my lips. B-J, who was outside the transparent wall, began to shriek wildly when he saw the blood. The wall was the boarder of the ring; neither we fighters could go out, nor could someone from outside enter to help. In tears, B-J was trying desperately to climb the invisible wall that separated us so he could come to my side.
Just then, something unexpected happened. First, the expression of the crowd changed as if with a coy smile. Then, just so the spectacle might become more colorful, a door opened in the wall to let B-J in. I vaguely saw how he plunged through that opening screaming bloody murder, how he fell onto me and showered me with kisses and praises; and afterward, how he angrily jumped up and began to destroy his pea-green snakeskin purse on the head of my opponent. The rest was a blur.

cin (jinn): According to the Holy Koran, jinns were created a thousand years before Exalted Adam. Man, made from dark mud could be seen by the naked eye; the jinn, made from smokeless fire, could not. The categories of jinn are varied and vast. Some of them cause fits of madness.

Strangers took me by the arms and helped me get off the ground. I was in no condition to stand. I looked at B-J; the tears he'd shed opened sorrowful paths through the heavy powder on his cheeks. His pupils shined with the happiness he felt because I'd fought for his honor before all. We sat on the empty boxes in front of a corner store. We were silent for a time. As those around us gradually left us, B-J gently kissed my bruises with his sour-cherry-colored lips. "The rich color of bruised cherries" I whispered. We hugged each other and swore we would never again hurt one another. I was filled with a sense of peace. The breeze blew a bruised cherry, my pain was bruised cherry, my beloved kissed me bruised cherry.

Dabbetularz (the Creature of the Judgment): A creature with a bull's head, an elephant's ears, the feet of a camel, and a hyena's tail that will emerge from the ground on Judgment Day. The Creature of the Judgment will color the faces of believers white and those of unbelievers black. Through the colors, the good and the evil will also become visible.

Hugging each other as we left, I thought we'd go back to the Shadowplay Apartments by the shortest possible route. But B-J dragged me headlong into the first bar we came across. It was dimly lit inside. While B-J sat at the bar and tossed back beer after beer, I tilted my head back in the corner I'd withdrawn to and could do nothing but wait for the blood to stop flowing from my nose. As I did so, I couldn't see B-J. It frightened me when he was out of my field of sight.
As I grew frightened, I grew hungry.

dus (dream): In sixteenth century, in Istanbul, one night the Poet Bâli Effendi dreamed of his friend Piruza Ali, who had died at a young age. Piruza Ali handed a scrap of paper to the poet, who then slid it into one of the folds of his turban and woke up. The next day, as he told his dream to those around him, he involuntarily reached for his turban to find the scrap of paper.

Sitting at the closest flatbread shop, waiting for the waiter to bring out my grilled spinach flatbreads, I was being as nice as I possibly could be to B-J. It was clear that I couldn't handle another fight tonight. But he didn't seem aware of how tense I was. He was stump-drunk. He harangued customers and passersby, talking continuously about things I couldn't understand, and he burst out laughing at everything he said. Everyone was staring at us. This wasn't my idea of going out in disguise.
"Stop!" I begged. The spinach flatbreads hadn't yet come. I was growing increasingly more tense. "Just take it easy a little, would you? Everyone's staring at us."
"Why are you so uptight, Sweetie? Or does it make you uncomfortable that everyone's staring at us?" B-J said shrewishly. Then he jumped to his feet and continued in a voice that everyone could hear, knowing full well that all eyes were upon him.
"Awright, of course, at home, behind four walls you men want us to be all laughter and giggles, frisky and flirtatious, and even, yeah even, whorish and wanton, but as soon as we take a step out the door we ought to be prim and proper, the picture of meekness and modesty, isn't that so? And you don't even know that when you affect our outward appearance like that you also play with our pride. You're men aren't you? You're all the same, each and every one of you. That's right. Now, for god's sake what's this hypocrisy that's been going on under our noses! Make a decision about what you want. If we did just a tenth of what you wanted us to do at home out in public, you'd immediately raise hell. Is this not the truth? Enough! And I mean it, as god is my witness, it's quite enough. I resent being forced to have a split personality."
If only the ground would open and swallow me; if only one of the busboys would show me a hidden passageway under the table so I could sneak away; if only my girdle would explode and along with my bursting fat I might be flung miles away; if only I could at once and eternally disappear… I couldn't look at anyone out of embarrassment. Everyone in the flatbread shop had probably stopped what he was doing and was watching to see what my reaction would be. As for me, I couldn't take my eyes off the edge of the plate full of hot spinach flatbread that the waiter had recently brought out.

Ef'i (viper): The female viper, Ef'i, first lost her seeing eyes. And when she encountered the Razyanj tree, she lost her blindness. (research further: they say the dried heart of the viper, who first lost her seeing eyes and then her blind eyes, is a protective talisman against all variety of spell.)

At the end of that long night, after we'd finally returned to the Shadowplay Apartments, B-J couldn't wait for me to open the door. As if to spite me, the key became stuck in the lock. As I was struggling with the door, he suddenly threw his head back and made a sound as if he was choking. At the very last instant I was able to decipher the meaning of this sound and move out of the way. He threw up on the corridor walls, the floor, and his corn-yellow wig. And as if this weren't enough, he also threw up on the neighbor woman's doormat. I was trembling nervously in my haste. Thank goodness the key didn't make any more trouble and the door opened.
As soon as the door swung open B-J pushed me out of the way and ran inside. Just before the bathroom, he lost his balance and fell from his enormous shoes to the floor. He was so drunk that he hadn't even felt any pain.

fal (fortune-telling): All varieties of fortune-telling attempt to see the future. Yet "seeing" alone is not enough, for there is also the matter of convincing people that the fortune-teller can truly see the future. (Example: The god Apollo had given Cassandra the ability to tell fortunes. But when Cassandra turned down his proposal of marriage, the god Apollo punished her by making what she saw doubtful in the eyes of others).

When he came out of the toilet he looked terrible. He'd returned to his normal height, his sour-cherry lipstick was smeared all over him, the rest of his make-up had run and mixed together, his fishnet stockings had lengthy runs in them, strands of hair that had stuck together under his wig were now spiking upward, and his eyes that shone in alertness the whole night fell into a pathetic silence. He just stood before me, his hands, which had always been too big for his body, folded together and the corners of his skulking mouth lowered. It was obvious that he'd be greatly ashamed if he were in the condition to feel shame.
As he collapsed onto the bed, he whispered sorrowfully:
"I wouldn't have wanted you to see me like this, in this state…"
But seeing him in this condition pleased me immensely. To tell the truth, seeing B-J at his most wretched and disgraceful, was quite satisfying; for B-J normally appeared to know exactly what he was doing at all times, took everything seriously, deliberated over every issue at length, had no trouble guessing people's stories, and therefore, uncovering their weaknesses, and exerted an authority belied by the size of his body over all his friends and acquaintances.

Fames: The god of hunger Fames lived in the endless land of appetite that was covered by useless plants, ice-formations sharper than a sword, and snow that would never melt. He was so, oh so very thin that from a distance he looked like a skeleton. Through his lips, torn-from-biting and blue-from-cold, passed continually the names the foods he dreamed of. The pain of hunger could be read in the sharp glances of his blackened eyes whose light had been snuffed out. His face was yellow and his skin was dry. His hair was short and spiky from being gnawed away. His fingers were bone thin from being sucked. Since he occasionally tried to eat himself, there were bite marks all over his body.
The breath of Fames smelled worse than rotten eggs. They say one whiff of his breath is enough to make one walk around in eternal hunger. Those poisoned by the breath of Fames could never sate their hunger no matter how much they ate. They would nibble away on food and hunger would nibble away on them because it wasn't their stomachs that were insatiable, but their eyes.

In the morning as I prepared to go to work, I noticed that he was up as well and was making coffee, his face sullen. Our eyes met.
"Tell your eyes to forget what they saw last night," he said half-joking, half-serious.
"I don't think so," I said. "They won't forget."
"Not anything they've seen?" he said crossly.
"Not a thing," I said, without knowing quite why I was being so insistent.
"I don't think so," he said, "they'll forget."

goren (the one who sees): As Rumi exited the Pembefirusan caravansaray, Shams of Tabriz appeared before him and said, "O alchemist of the world, see me!"

As soon as I left the Shadowplay Apartments, I felt uneasy. I wanted to return home at once, and not leave for the entire day. The hill appeared to be steeper than usual and my route more complex. The easy solution was to hail a cab, but I couldn't just take cabs each and every day. As I thought about how I would wheeze as I climbed up the high steps of the bus packed-full at this hour of the morning, and how I'd have to scuffle to make room for myself in the crowded corridor – not to mention putting up with the eyes of those who stared at me the whole way – my feet longed to go back home. There was also a minibus route between the Shadowplay Apartments and the nursery; but minibuses were the worst of all.
When I forced myself to walk, a terrifying rasp came from my chest. At each step I felt I was aggravating the wounds on my legs, and I was forced to stop frequently. I was used to all this. Moving had always been difficult for me. But now, as I went to do something that I didn't want to do, not only my body, my soul resisted. As I continued to struggle onward, passersby going up and down the hill watched me anxiously.

gozbebegi (pupil): Darkness and distance cause the pupil to expand, light and proximity to contract; that is, this fickle ring shrinks in light and grows in its absence. And since it contracts when focusing on what's nearby, what's close is illumination and rests in light. Whatever's in the distance remains in darkness. When we're in love, as well, the pupil expands; which means the object of our love is always in the distance. To diminish the pain of this distance, the beloved is endearingly called "the apple of my eye!"

As I reached the top of the hill dripping with sweat, I stopped and caught my breath. I'd made my final decision. I couldn't go on like this.
I was going to diet.

* * *