died； opening the way for my own

advancement；　how　I　stared　as　a　child　from　my　grandmother’s　lap　at　red　shirts

while my mother hung the laundry to dry in the courtyard； how I ran to

distant　neighborhoods　in　search　of　the　midwife　when　Shekure’s　mother；　may

she　rest　in　peace；　had　gone　into　labor；　the　location　of　the　red　belt　I’d　lost　over

forty years ago （I know now that Vasfi stole it）； the splendid garden in the

distance　that　I’d　dreamed　about　once　twenty…one　years　ago；　which　I　pray　Allah

will one day confirm is Heaven； the severed heads； noses； and ears sent to

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Istanbul by Ali Bey； the Governor…General of Georgia； who suppressed the

rebels　in　the　fortress　of　Gori；　and　my　beautiful；　dear　Shekure；　who　separated

herself from the neighborhood women mourning over me in the house and

stared　into　the　flames　of　the　brick　stove　in　our　courtyard。

As　is　recorded　in　books　and　confirmed　by　scholars；　the　soul　dwells　in　four

realms：　1。　the　womb；　2。　the　terrestrial　world；　3。　Berzah；　or　divine　limbo；　where

I　now　await　Judgment　Day；　and　4。　Heaven　or　Hell；　where　I　will　arrive　after　the

Judgment。

From the intermediate state of Berzah； past and present time appear at

once；　and　as　long　as　the　soul　remains　within　its　memories；　limitations　of　place

do　not　obtain。　Only　when　one　escapes　the　dungeons　of　time　and　space　does　it

bees evident that life is a straitjacket。 However blissful it is being a soul

without　a　body　in　the　realm　of　the　dead；　so　too　is　being　a　body　without　a　soul

among the living； what a pity nobody realizes this before