Madonna in a Fur Coat

by Sabahattin Ali

I knew full well that people who feel misunderstood and misjudged by those around them come to take pride in their plight, finding bitter pleasure in it, but I’d never imagined that they might also come to approve of those who disparaged them.

Only now did I begin to understand why it was not always through words that people sought each other out and came to understand each other, and why some poets went to such lengths to seek out companions who could, like them, contemplate the beauties of nature in silence.

In Istanbul, at the Academy of Fine Arts, I quickly — and without assistance — came to the conclusion that painting was a mode of expression and, inevitably, of self-expression, and after that there seemed no point in continuing my studies. In any case, my teachers didn’t see much in me. I only ever presented my most trivial efforts: if my works expressed anything personal, or exposed any personal particularity, I went to extreme lengths to hide them away, lest they ever see the light of day. If someone ever happened to find one, I would gasp like a naked woman caught in an intimate moment and rush away blushing.

I had yet to learn that nothing in this world can ever match the marvels that we conjure up in our own minds.

The heroine in the story, the young Klara Milich, falls in love with a naïve young man, but she is unable to divulge her true feelings. Instead, she decides to punish herself for falling in love with a fool and hands herself over to addiction.

When I saw how she was incapable of voicing her feelings, and how fear and envy contrived to suppress everything about her that was deep and strong and beautiful — I saw myself.

All my life, I’d kept my heart closed. I had never known love. But now, all at once, the doors had flown open. My unspent passions had been released to illuminate this one magnificent woman. I was only too aware that I still knew next to nothing about her. My judgments were formed of my own dreams and illusions. At the same time, I was absolutely sure that they would not deceive me.

A soul came forward only when it found its twin, when it felt no need to rely on mere words to explain itself…It was only then that we truly began to live — live with our soul.

It’s at times like this that cowardice can be damaging…What will come of it? If we find we cannot get along, then we’ll just say goodbye and go our separate ways…Where’s the tragedy in that? The essence of life is in solitude — wouldn’t you agree? All unions are built on falsehood. People can only get to know each other up to a point and then they make up the rest, until one day, seeing their mistake, they turn their backs on sadness and run away. Would this ever happen if they stopped believing in their dreams and made do with what was possible? If everyone accepted what was natural, then no one would suffer disappointment, no one would curse fate. We have every right to see our situation as pitiful, but we must confine our pity to ourselves. To pity another is to assume superiority, and that is why we must never think we are superior to others, or that others are more unfortunate…Shall we go?”

“If a person truly has the ability to love, then he can never monopolize his beloved. And neither can his beloved monopolize him. The more he spreads his love, the more he adores his one and only true love. When love spreads, it does not diminish.”

It’s one thing to like someone. To be consumed, body and soul, by desire is quite another. That’s what love is to me — desire that’s all-consuming. Desire that’s impossible to resist!”

For our lives were governed by trivial details. Indeed, trivial details were what true life was made of. The logic in our minds had always been at odds with the logic of life itself.

I felt the sadness of a conversation left unfinished. Why had not we broached the subject yesterday? Even when we were stowing away her bags, we were still talking about the winter and then the joys of traveling. Why had we avoided all mention of the matters most dear to us? But perhaps it was better this way. What would come of all those words? Would we not have come to the same conclusion? Maria had found the best way…of that I was certain…an offer and an affirmation…brief, spontaneous, and indisputable!

The pain of losing something precious — whether earthly happiness or material wealth — can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us, and every time they come back to haunt us, we ache. Or perhaps what haunts us is that nagging thought that things might have turned out differently. Because without that thought, we would put it down to fate and accept it.