t because we’re poisoned by anger； unhappiness or some other flaw in

character。 （Granted； treating these people better would be more refined and

sensible。）

3。　The　reason　I　forget　and　confuse　so　many　names　and　faces—except　those

of　the　miniaturists　I’ve　loved　and　trained　since　their　apprenticeships—is　not

senility；　but　because　these　names　and　faces　are　so　lackluster　and　colorless　as　to

be　hardly　worth　remembering。

During the funeral of Enishte； whose soul was prematurely taken by God

because　of　his　own　foolishness；　I　tried　to　forget　that　the　deceased　had　at　one

time　caused　me　unmentionable　agony　by　forcing　me　to　imitate　the　European

masters。　On　the　way　back；　I　had　the　following　thoughts：　blindness　and　death；

those　gifts　bestowed　by　God；　are　not　so　far　from　me　now。　Of　course；　I　will　be

remembered　only　so　long　as　my　illustrations　and　manuscripts　cause　your　eyes

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to　prance　and　flowers　of　bliss　to　bloom　in　your　hearts。　But　after　my　death　let

it　be　known　that　in　my　old　age；　at　the　very　end　of　my　life；　there　was　still　plenty

that　made　me　smile。　For　instance：

1。　Children—They　represent　what　is　vital　in　the　world。

2。　Sweet　memories　of　handsome　boys；　beautiful　women；　painting　well　and

friendships。

3。 Seeing the masterpieces of the old masters of Herat—this cannot be

explained　to　the　uninitiated。

The　simple　meaning　of　all　of　this：　In　Our　Sultan’s　workshop；　which　I　direct；

magnificent　works　of　art　can　no　longer　be　made　as　they　once　were—and　the

situation will only get worse； everything will dwindle and disappear。 I am

painfully　aware　that　we　quite　rarely