my
conscious mind and alighted somewhere in my memory。 Later; I would muse
over these words one by one。 But at the time my appreciation of the magic of
what he said was purely visceral and it bound me to him。 I felt guilty for
having caused him such pain for twelve years。 What a honey…tongued man!
What a good person this Black was! Like an innocent child! I could read all of
this from his eyes。 The fact that he loved me so much made me trust him。
We embraced。 This so pleased me that I felt no guilt。 I let myself be borne
away by sweet emotion。 I hugged him tighter。 I let him kiss me; and I kissed
him back。 And as we kissed; it was as if the entire world had entered a gentle
twilight。 I wished everybody could embrace each other the way we did。 I faintly
recalled that love was supposed to be like this。 He put his tongue into my
mouth。 I was so content with what I was doing; it was as if the whole world
were engulfed in blissful light; I could think of nothing bad。
Let me describe for you how our embrace might’ve been depicted by the
master miniaturists of Herat; if this tragic story of mine were one day recorded
in a book。 There are certain amazing illustrations that my father has shown me
wherein the thrill of the script’s flow matches the swaying of the leaves; the
wall ornamentation is echoed in the design of the border gilding and the joy
of the swallow’s matchless wings piercing the picture’s border suggests the
elation of the lovers。 Exchanging glances from afar and tormenting each other
with suggestive phrases; the lovers would be depicted so small;