Thesofallatalatehourandtiilldawn.IspentthenightreadingShekure’sletteragainandagain.Ipatheemptyroomoftheemptyhouse,occasionallyleaningtowardthedlestitheflickeringlightofthedimdle,Iwatchedthetensequiveringofmybeloved’sangryletters,thesomersaultstheyturryingtodeceivemeandtheirhip-swingingright-to-leftprogression.Abruptly,thoseshutterswouldopenbeforemyeyes,andmybeloved’sfadhersorrowfulsmilewouldappear.AndwhenIsawherrealface,Ifotallofthoseotherfaceswhosesour-cherrymouthshadincreasinglymaturedandripenedinmyimagination.

    InthemiddleofthenightIlostmyselfindreamse:Ihadnodoubtsaboutmyloveorthatitwasreciprocated—weweremarriedinastateofgreatte—but,myimaginaryhappiness,setinahousewithastaircase,wasdashedwhenIcouldn’tfindappropriateworkandbeganarguingwithmywife,uomakeherheedmywords.

    IkneropriatedtheseominousimagesfromtheseontheillseinGazzali’sTheRevivaliousSce,whichI’dreadduringmynightsasabachelorinArabia;atthesametime,Irecalledthattherewasactuallyadvithebeseinthatsamese,thoughnowIcouldrememberonlytwoofthesebes:first,havingmyhouseholdkeptiherewasnosuchorderinmyimaginedhouse);sed,beingsparedtheguiltofself-abuseandingmyself—anevendeepersenseofguilt—behindpimpsleadihroughdarkalleywaystothelairsofprostitutes.

    Thethoughtofsalvationatthislatehhtmasturbationtomind.

    le-mindeddesire,andtoridmymindofthisirrepressibleurge,Iretiredtoaeroftheroom,aswasmywont,butafterawhileIrealizedIcouldn’tjackoff—proofwellenoughthatI’dfalleninloveagaiwelveyears!

    Thisstrucksuchexci