From the book:

Uzun Hikaye
(Long Story)

"My mother used to wash me in a pan. She used to draw water by pump all the year round, rub the laundry with her purple turned fingers; and clean the house thoroughly until it was as clean as a rose.
My father never left her alone in anything she did, he used to iron his own shirts and trousers, and even cook the meals. They produced homemade macaroni together and even made jam.
As the years passed, the love they felt for each other had increased instead of lessening, they had faced all those journeys, exile, poverty and despair together.
In winter while the blue zinc teapot sizzled on the sheet iron stove, my father used to write who knows what on his typewriter which was always near him, my mother saw the rips of our clothes on the divan and from the window of the wagon house enchanted light rays fell on the snow pieces scattering outside. I imagined that this story would never end and I the child shahzadah would never grow up."

Number of Pages > 115
Type > Short Story
Year of Edition > 2005 (11th edition)
ISBN > 975-7032-75-1