Ignore t t I’m standing ill; if trutold, I’ve been galloping for centuries; I’ve passed over plains, fougtles, carried off ters of so be irelessly page by page from story to ory, from ory to legend and from book to book; I’ve appeared in countless stories, fables, books and battles; I’ve accompanied invincible astic armies; I’ve galloped from campaign to campaign orious sultans, and as a result, I’ve appeared in countless illustrations.

    feel, you ask, to be painted so often?

    Of course, I’m proud of myself. Yet, I also question ed in all cases. It is evident from tures t I’m perceived differently by everyone. Still, I rong sense t ty, a unity to trations.

    My miniaturist friends ing a story recently, and from it, I learned the king of

    to ter of tian Doge. , but t, “ if tian is poor and er ugly?” to reassure  artist to paint tian Doge’s daugy and belongings. tians could care less about gross indecency: t only ters to tist, but ted infidel artist could depict a maiden or a  you’d be able to pick eit of a croures from Venice, pondering allion, suddenly aroused, attempted to mount ttractive mare in ting, and to bring trol before royed ture and its frame h his huge member.

    t it  ty of tian mare t allion—triking—but t of taking a particular mare and painting a picture in  likeness. Noion arises: Is it sinful to be depicted as t mare  is, like a real mare? In my case, as you can see, ttle difference betures of horses.

    Actually, ticular attention to tion, tand t I am indeed unique. But t features point to turist ed me, not to my uniqueness as a  tly like me. I’m simply t exists in a miniaturist’s imagination.

    Looking at me, observers frequently say, “Good God, ually praising tist, not me. All  distinct, and turist, above all, ougo knohis.

    take a close look, even a given stallion’s organ doesn’t resemble anot be afraid, you can examine it up close, and even take it in your s own.

    Nourists illustrate all ed by Allaest of all Creators. ake pride in simply rendering tens of t ever truly looking at us? I’ll tell you ing to depict t God perceives, not t t t amount to cy, t is—Alla it saying t I could do tists   tists ing t s in tion is God’s ists   blind miniaturists dra tting ting h Allah?

    tyles of ters aren’t blaspe te, t in

    keeping  my Erzurumi bret misunderstand me. It displeases me t Frankis to pious modesties, t t understand t t   Jesus is also tect us. I become so aggravated by t if I ever came across one, I’d give him a good mule kick.

    Still, I’m sick of being incorrectly depicted by miniaturists o  me at a gallop ended at time. t a  runs like a rabbit. If one of my forelegs is for. Contrary to ed in battle illustrations, t a  extends one foreleg like a curious dog, leaving ted on tence raced ical stencil ty times back to back. e  t our feet uesque stance and  around elegantly, tings.  our eating, drinking, sting and sleeping? o depict t of mine? On ticular, love to stare at it, and  this as well?

    t once upon a time tal fear t o Isfa out of t cell, yard nor garden, for ty-one years. After ted time on Eart, t you bring me a ures of t t  beautiful gray steed in t rils like mine-ss, a s duller trations and a brutised t er tal slauged forty days, all t Exalted Alla refrain from meting out ice: tsoever, and ed and, in t. Let t: As all tories ion of aken its revenge.