Despair
The world, life, all reality were swarming with signs sent by God so that we could discern our fortune. I would stand at the Satsat window, counting the cars as they passed, and I would say to myself: “If the first red car moving down the avenue has come from the left, I am going to have news from Fusun, and if from the right, my wait will continue.” Or I might divine: “If I am the first person to jump from the ferry when it lands, I`ll see Fusun soon.” And I would jump before they`d even thrown the rope. Behind me the rope men would cry: “The first person to jump to shore is a donkey!” Then I would hear a ship`s whistle, taking it for an omen, and I would imagine what sort of ship it was. I would tell myself, “If the number of steps in the overpass is an odd number, I`ll see Fusun soon.” If it turned out to be an even number, my agony would increase, but if the omen augured well I would enjoy a moment of relief.
Orhan Pamuk. The Museum of Innocence. 181-182
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