intently into my eyes as if to say； “I understand； I’m listening to you with
reverence” when I tell him something of import； or the way he nods his head
with a subtle rhythm matching the measure of my words are all quite
appropriate。 Now that I’ve reached this age； I know that true respect arises not
from the heart； but from discrete rules and deference。
During the years Black’s mother brought him frequently to our house
under every pretense because she anticipated a future for him here； I
understood that books pleased him； and this brought us together。 As those in
the house used to put it； he would serve as my “apprentice。” I explained to
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him how miniaturists in Shiraz had created a new style by raising the horizon
line clear to the top of the border； and that while everyone depicted Mejnun
in a wretched state in the desert； crazed with love for his Leyla； the great
master Bihzad was better able to convey Mejnun’s loneliness by portraying
him walking among groups of women cooking； attempting to ignite logs by
blowing on them or walking between tents。 I remarked how absurd it was that
most of the illustrators who depicted the moment when Hüsrev spied the
naked Shirin bathing in a lake at midnight had whimsically colored the lovers’
horses a