BY ORHAN PAMUK
In the hours
before I was born, my mother had been avidly following a local story:
Two days
earlier, the caretakers and “heroic” residents of the Konya Student Center had
seen a man in a terrifying mask trying to enter a house in Langa through the
bathroom window;
they’d chased him through the streets to a lumberyard, where,
after cursing the police, the hardened criminal had committed suicide;
a seller
of dry goods identified the corpse as a gangster who the year before had
entered his shop in broad daylight and robbed him at gunpoint.
No comments:
Post a Comment