TE16 Turkish Delight
He, then, took out a pen and a notebook from his, sat down next to me, and went through the story whilst taking it down speedily on the paper in English. He wasn’t stopping to think in between sentences. He must have been quite comfortable with both Turkish and English. After only translating two thirds of the story, he put the pen down and looked at me. I wasn’t feeling the best about all this, my nervousness doubled. “Is there a problem?” I asked him.
“No,” he said. “There’s no problem. I was just curious that’s all. You’re man in this picture, correct?”
“Yes, I am.” I replied, but ice cold.
“And do you know this Turkish model? Seniha?”
“No, I don’t. That’s why I want to know what it says in the story. Apparently, it’s about me too, but why is she in there? I mean how come there’s a connection between that person and a picture of me at the train station in Munich?” He paused before he asked again: “You really don’t know?” He took his pen and went back on with the translation while he kept talking. “It’s best if I just finish this. You’ll then see theconnection. I think it’s the photographer.”
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