and　fair　Shekure　had

quitted　years　after　our　childhood。　This　was　the　barber　I’d　faced　five　days　ago；

my　first　day　back。　When　I　entered　he　embraced　me　and　as　any　good　Istanbul

barber would do； rather than asking where the last dozen years had gone；

launched into the latest neighborhood gossip； concluding the conversation

with an allusion to the place we would all go at the end of this meaningful

journey　called　life。

The　master　barber　had　aged。　The　straight…edged　razor　he　held　in　his　freckled

hand　trembled　as　he　made　it　dance　across　my　cheek。　He’d　given　himself　over

to drinking and had taken on a pink…plexioned； full…lipped； green…eyed

boy…apprentice—who looked upon his master with awe。 pared with

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twelve years ago； the shop was cleaner and more orderly。 After filling the

hanging basin； which hung from the ceiling on a new chain； with boiling

water；　he　carefully　washed　my　hair　and　face　with　water　from　the　brass　faucet

at　the　bottom　of　the　basin。　The　old　broad　basins　were　newly　tinned　with　no

signs of rust； the heating braziers were clean； and the agate…handled razors

were　sharp。　He　wore　an　immaculate　silk　waistcoat；　something　he　was　loath　to

wear　twelve　years　ago。　I　assumed　that　the　elegant　apprentice；　tall　for　his　age

and　of　slender　build；　had　helped　bring　some　order　to　the　shop　and　its　owner；

and　surrendering　myself　to　the　soapy；　rose…scented　and　steamy　pleasures　of　a

shave； I couldn’t help thinking how marriage not only brought new vitality

and　prosperity　to　a　bachelor’s　home；　but　to　his　work　and　his　shop　as　well。