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ters in Central Asia are piercing and bleak, id summers bring cery and mosquitoes, but, in April, touc of all trees douses tys t-catcs.
Every city s oernal logic. Imagine a city draraigric se, in pale terracotta. Loerraces of o rise out of tis, not built out of it. t, gritty dust over everyt tel crayons leave on your fingers.
Against t crusts of ceramic tiles t cover t mausoleums ensorcellate transforms itself to green . Beneaternately lapis lazuli and veridian, tamburlaine, tomb. e are visiting an autically fabulous city. e are in Samarkand.
tion promised t least, did not in, pink and yellocripes of brilliant colours t dazzle like an optical illusion, and th much jewellery made of red glass.
to be fro a traig takes to t a break. tartling. ten ts. Young girls tle velvet caps embroidered allic ted igy years.
t live in an imaginary city. t kno turbanned, sed, booted menfolk are creatures as extraordinary to t, in all ttering and innocent exoticism, in direct contradiction to ory. t kno t kno ty is not tire y, beautiful as an illusion, ea nudges ts wicker cage.
t er from a glass over radis of t summers dried fruit -- apricots, peac for a fees, stored in sa ter and no open on tall to s nest of garnets remains y of Samarkand is salted apricot kernels, more delicious, even, tachios.
An old ains, flourtle-doves are nesting among to a cup of buttermilk for s slohey are growing.
So in time. Or, it is as if sing for Sco perceive a final daale of all concluded, fall silent. t vanish.
A goat is nibbling by tiful amburlaine.
tamburlaines arted to build t t urn, one arcill remained unfinis directly to tect and begged o tect told e time only if she gave him a kiss. One kiss, one single kiss.
tamburlaines only very beautiful and very virtuous but also very clever. S to t, boug of eggs, boiled tained t colours. Sect to t and told o c it. ook a red egg. does it taste like? Like an egg. Eat anothe
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