ure it all out and tion and relegate me to tatus of an ordinary, confessed criminal o dail, alloo keep some clues to myself: try to discover ive people like yourselves migprints to catcurn, brings us to tyle,” : Does a miniaturist, ougurist, yle? A use of color, a voice all his own?

    Let’s consider a piece by Bier of masters, patron saint of all miniaturists. I erpiece, o my situation because it’s a depiction of murder, among ty-year-old book of t sc emerged from ttle of succession and recounts tory of e of o Nizami’s version, not Firdusi’s:

    ter a  of trials and tribulations;  give t only  also es, “enco t, entering tabs  ill dawn and  iful Shirin, who remains sleeping peacefully beside him.

    ture by t master Biale itself, addresses a grave fear I’ve carried  to realize tranger making faint sounds as

    t truder ail, t ation, t scream emanating from your clamped t and t quilt upon eps as ails serve ting ty of ting, t e are ting’s beauty and of to your deat of your being totally alone in deate t strikes you.

    “ter said ty years ago as rembling ed not by t by tion itself. “t ture.”

    Bi t  ure anyo ter, t and a feeling of srue art and genuine virtuosity tist can paint an incomparable masterpiece  leaving even a trace of ity.

    Fearing for my life, I murdered my unfortunate victim in an ordinary and crude manner. As I returned to t after nigo ascertain  migray me, questions of style increasingly arose in my  ed as style ion or fla revealed