Chapter Four
I had already begun walking more slowly when I found myself looking at an illuminated sign that read, ‘Garden Cafe.’ It was a place I patronized often. Since I wasn’t eager to see Inayat Hanem immediately, I thought about sitting for a while in the cafe, getting a drink and chatting with some friends I might find there. One had to plunge into a tight, dark alley that stank with heaps of garbage and then turn right behind a gate made of iron rings and bars in order to glimpse a garden with iron tables and chairs in the midst of a quarter that a few huge buildings had turned their backs on. In the daytime, if you were a new customer, you couldn’t rid your mind of the water pipes and sewage lines that scarred the backs of those towering buildings. But at night, when most of the
