who　have　tired　of　me　and　are　smiling：　Death　is　no　laughing　matter。

The　master　miniaturist　who　made　me　now　roams　the　streets　endlessly　each

night in fits of regret； like certain Chinese masters； he believes he’s bee

what　he　has　drawn。

142

I　AM　ESTHER

Ladies from the neighborhoods of Redminaret and Blackcat had ordered

purple and red quilting from the town of Bilejik； so； early in the morning； I

loaded　up　my　makeshift　satchel—the　large　cloth　that　I’d　fill　up　and　tie　into　a

bundle。　I　removed　the　green　Chinese　silk　that　had　recently　arrived　by　way　of

the　Portuguese　trader　but　wasn’t　selling；　substituting　the　more　alluring　blue。

And　given　the　persistent　snows　of　this　endless　winter；　I　carefully　folded　plenty

of　colorful　socks；　thick　sashes　and　heavy　vests；　all　of　wool；　arranging　them　in

the　center　of　the　bundle：　When　I　spread　open　my　blanket　a　bouquet　of　color

would　bloom　to　make　even　the　most　indifferent　woman’s　heart　leap。　Next；　I

packed　some　lightweight；　but　expensive；　silk　handkerchiefs；　money　purses　and

embroidered washcloths especially for those ladies who called for me not to

make　a　purchase　but　to　gossip。　I　lifted　the　tote。　My　goodness；　this　is　much　too

heavy；　it’ll　break　my　back。　I　put　it　down　and　opened　it。　As　I　stared　at　it；　trying

to　determine　what　to　leave　out；　I　heard　knocking　at　the　doo