as on
my knees off to the side。 Rushing like the wind； I said a prayer before opening
the door。 I won’t withhold anything from you； because you； who can hear me
from within this book； are much nearer to Allah than we in this filthy and
miserable world of ours。 Akbar Khan； the Emperor of Hindustan and the
world’s richest shah； is preparing what will one day bee a legendary book。
To plete his project； he sent word to the four corners of Islamdom inviting
the world’s greatest artists to join him。 The men he’d sent to Istanbul visited
me yesterday； inviting me to Hindustan。 This time； I opened the door to find；
in their place； my childhood acquaintance Black； about whom I’d forgotten
entirely。 Back then he wasn’t able to keep our pany； he was jealous of us。
“Yes？”
He said he’d e to converse； to pay a friendly visit； to have a look at my
illustrations。 I weled him so he might see it all。 I learned he’d just today
visited Head Illuminator Master Osman and kissed his hand。 The great master；
he explained； had given him wise words to ponder： “A painter’s quality
bees evident in his discussions of blindness and memory；” he’d said。 So let
it be evident：
Blindness and Memory
Before the art of illumination there was blackness and afterward there will also
be blackness。 Through our colors； paints； art and love； we remember that Allah
had manded us to “See”！ To know is to remember that you’ve seen。 To see
is to know without remembering。 Thus； painting is remembering the
blackness。 The great masters； who shared a love of painting and perceived that
color and