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young　age；　succumbing　to　the　fever　brought　on　by　a　mysterious　illness。　Elegant

Effendi； may he rest in peace； would go on Wednesdays； and was therefore

known as “Wednesday。” Later； our great master meaningfully and lovingly

changed　our　names　from　“Tuesday”　to　“Olive；”　from　“Friday”　to　“Stork；”　and

from “Sunday” to “Butterfly；” renaming the dearly departed as “Elegant” in

allusion to the finesse of his gilding work。 The great master must have said；

“Wele　”Wednesday；“　how　are　you　this　morning？”　to　the　late　Elegant　just

as　he　used　to　greet　all　of　us　back　then。

When I recalled how he would address me； I thought my eyes might fill

with　tears：　Master　Osman　admired　us；　and　his　own　eyes　would　tear　when　he

beheld　the　beauty　of　our　work；　he’d　kiss　our　hands　and　arms；　and　despite　the

beatings； we felt as if we were in Heaven as apprentices； and so our talent

blossomed with his love。 Even jealousy； which cast its shadow over those

happy　years；　had　a　different　hue　then。

Now　I　am　pletely　divided；　just　like　those　figures　whose　head　and　hands

are drawn and painted by one master while their bodies and clothes are

depicted by another。 When a God…fearing man like myself unexpectedly

bees　a　murderer；　it　takes　time　to　adjust。　I’ve　adopted　a　second　voice；　one

befitting a murderer； so that I might still carry on as though my old life

continued。　I　am　speaking　now　in　this　derisive　and　devious　second　voice；　which

I keep out of my regular life。 From time to time； of course； you’ll hear my

familiar； regu