His friends
frantically typed sections of the story, and Mr. Pamuk raced to this post
office and handed the manuscript to a woman behind the counter just hours
before the deadline.
“The next day I received a note from her, telling me, ‘You
paid me too little,’ ” he said, gazing at the main, gazebo-like kiosk
beneath the atrium’s soaring central dome, where the moment played out.
“But
she’d understood that I was ambitious, submitting a literary work, and she paid
the postage on her own.”
One month later he learned that he had won the
contest. “So I love this place just because of that,” he said.
-Joshua Hammer
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