I gave my mother and uncle a summary of my life over the last two decades, thinking how flat the bumps of incidents had grown, how drained of significance. Their account of their lives was even more faded, uttered in quieter, more hesitant tones. Was it possible to close the gap that time had created between us, I wondered in despair.

Our conversation was like a conversation in dreams, rapid, shadowy one moment and extraordinarily vivid the next.

“Yes, I lay flat for hours and hours on my back because the world had become black, completely black,” my uncle would say.

“I’d hold a colorful string before you, swaying it back and forth, like Feri used to do to a cat.” My mother said, laughing, showing her blackened molars.

“When I got there I realized I didn’t know my way back. I don’t have a good sense of direction,” I said.

As in dreams, some of the connections were missing.

“Nothing in life is quite expected,” my uncle said more firmly. “Who knew that I was going to lose my sight, that my sister would lose all her fortune and we’d end up in this ruined place? Yet one mustn’t question God’s will. Who knows why He chooses these certain paths for his creations?” Flies crawled on his beard, buzzing, climbing on each other and separating with frantic intensity. “Banoo kept questioning her lot and got herself deeper and deeper in trouble. You were lucky you didn’t see her in those days when she lost her head and hid herself in a basement, too ashamed to be seen by anyone, or tried to drown herself in the cistern.”

“Fate,” my mother said simply. She took the lid off the pot, mixed the soup with a ladle, and began to serve it in blue ceramic bowls. Then she took out some bread folded inside of a tin box and put it before us.

“We don’t have much around the house today,” she said, smiling feebly. She seemed to be trying to overcome a deadly fatigue. “But later I’ll get you things I know you’d like.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I smiled too, with difficulty.

We began to eat. My uncle’s eyes lay on me, perhaps unintentionally, as he dipped bread in the soup and ate it. Small, hard-shelled insects lay on their backs on the ground, their legs twitching in the air.

A sharp pain shot in my chest and began to travel around my rib cage.

“I think I’m going to lie down for a while. I’m very tired.” I knew by now I should contact a doctor but I was ashamed of saying that to my mother so soon after I had arrived.

We went inside and my mother took out a mattress, some sheets and a pillow from a closet. Together we spread the mattress on the floor.

“Rest now. You’ve had a long trip,” she said.

“Can I have something heavier than that sheet?” I asked. “I’m a little chilly.”