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Earlier in the day I’d stored up so many things to tell her. But now I couldn’t remember a single one. My mind was spinning with new thoughts. Finally, I just started talking. In no particular order, I told her about my childhood and my years of military service, and the books I had read and the dreams I had held dear. I told her about Fahriye, the girl next door, and all the bandits I’d met after the war. I shared with her things I had until now shared with no one, or even admitted to myself. I was unburdening my very soul. This being the first time I had ever tried to explain myself, I wanted to be utterly candid, hiding nothing. But in my zeal to tell the whole truth, I put too much emphasis on my shortcomings, thereby distorting it.
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