dly,thisiswhyeachdaytheFrankinfidelsurrendersanotherfortresstousOttomans.

    Afterrealizing,whilestillayouth,thatthebestrecipeformyspiritualhappinessandtewastolivefarfrombeautifulwomen,Igrewincreasinglycuriousaboutthesecreatures.Atthattime,sinceIhadn’tseenanywomenbesidesmymotherandmyaunt,mycuriosityassumedamysticalquality,myheadseemedtotingle,andIkhatIcouldonlylearnhowwomeifIdidwhattheydid,atewhattheyate,saidwhattheysaid,imitatedtheirbehaviorand,yes,onlyifIworetheirclothes.Therefore,oneFriday,whenmymother,father,olderbrotherandauomygrandfather’srosegardenonthe

    shoresoftheFahreng,ItoldthemIwasfeelingillandstayedathome.

    “ealong.Look,you’lleainusbymimigthedogs,treesandhorsesinthetry.What’llyoudohereallalone,anyway?”saidmymother,maysherestinpeace.

    “I’mgoingtoputonyourdressesandbeeawoman,dearmother,”ossibleanswer.SoIsaid,“Mystomachhurts.”

    “Don’tbesuchacoward,”saidmyfather.“ealongandwe’llwrestle.”

    Ishallnowdescribetoyou,mypainterandcalligrapherbrethrelywhatIfeltohey’dleftandIdoheunderclothesanddressesbelongingtomynowdearlydepartedmotherandaunt,aswellasthesecretsIlearhatdayaboutbeingawomamefirststatefhtthattrarytowhatwe’veoftenreadinbooksandheardfrompreachers,whenyouareawoman,youdon’tfeelliketheDevil.

    Notatall!WhenIpulledonmymother’srose-embroideredwoolunderclothes,agentlesenseofwell-beingspreadovermeaassensitiveasshe.Thetouchagainstmybareskinofmyaunt’spistachio-greensilkshirt,whichshecouldneverbringherselftowear,mademefeelanirrepressibl