BY ORHAN PAMUK
From a very young age, I suspected there was more to my world than I could see:
Somewhere in the streets of Istanbul, in a house resembling ours, there lived another Orhan so much like me that he could pass for my twin, even my double.
I can’t remember where I got this idea or how it came to me.
It must have emerged from a web of rumors, misunderstandings, illusions, and fears.
But in one of my earliest memories, it is already clear how I’ve come to feel about my ghostly other.
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