shouldered； pink…lipped； pretty boy who’d e from the palace； and was able
to infer that Head Illuminator Master Osman was behind this contest。 Master
Osman； without a doubt； knows my talent and likes me the best of all the
masters。
So； as I gazed at the empty page； the stance； look and demeanor of a horse
that would please both the Sultan and Master Osman came to life before my
eyes。 The horse ought to be lively； but serious； like the horses Master Osman
made ten years ago； and it should be rearing； in the way that always pleased
Our Sultan； so that both of them would concur on the horse’s beauty。 How
many gold pieces are they offering； I wonder？ How would Mir Musavvir make
this picture？ How would Bihzad？
Suddenly； the beast entered my thoughts with such speed； that by the time
I understood what it was； my damnable hand grabbed the brush and began to
draw a miraculous horse beyond anyone’s conception； starting from the raised
left foreleg。 After quickly joining the leg to the body； I made two arcs swiftly；
pleasurably and confidently—had you seen them； you would’ve said this artist
is no illustrator； but a calligrapher。 I was gazing at my hand with awe； while it
moved as if it belonged to another。 These spectacular arcs became the horse’s
ample stomach； solid chest and swanlike neck。 The illustration might’ve been
considered p