“Yes, careful,” she says. “You know what the trees said when the axe came to the forest?”
“No, what?” asks Orhan.
“The handle is one of us,” she says, smiling her devious smile.
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But all the words in every human language on earth would not be enough to describe what happened.
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Seda turns the pages slowly, giving each photograph its due respect. Orhan hasn’t seen the photos in years. The memories come flooding back. Each image is a living, breathing moment of his life laid bare before him. Watching her watching him as he once watched the world makes him feel transparent.
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A cup of coffee commits one to forty years of friendship,” she says, reciting the proverb in Turkish.
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“I was beside myself with sadness,” Seda says, smoothing the crumpled skin of her brow with a hand. “A new kind of sadness that only occurs after you’ve managed to find some hope. A fresh wound after a prolonged recovery.
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