So it is when Orhan the novelist peers into the dark corners of his poet friend’s difficult and painful life: How much can he really see? All my life I’ve felt as lost and lonely as a wounded animal [Ka wrote]. Perhaps if I hadn’t embraced you with such violence, I wouldn’t have angered you so much, and I might not have undone the work of twelve years, ending up exactly where I started. But here I am, abandoned and wasting away; I carry the scars of my unbearable suffering on every inch of my body. Sometimes I think it’s not just you I’ve lost, but that I’ve lost everything in the world.
