The Painting in the Cup: El Greco – Nazli Karabiyikoglu

The road became steep as I climbed, then it turned into twistedness in my chest. My growling lungs howled, I  was breathless with hard coughs. As I felt it wasn’t attractive anymore to follow the mysteries by acting on Moor’s advice, I saw the man’s garden from the low part of the thick, high walls. Interestingly enough, I saw the intertwined cloths he tried to unwind. He tried to spread cloths which were three or four times taller than himself on the ground, then stepping on another cloth, he wrapped himself in the cloth again. He reminded me of Don Quixote.

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