The Hatuniye seminary with its walls turned to people climbing up and treading down leaning against the stairs. Those descending the stairs with a sense of pleasure and the aged climbing with uhhs and poohs turn their heads to look at the marble walls of the seminary. Inside, in a wooden case one sees the footprints of our holy Prophet being preser-ved in a glass cabinet... Those who have consumed their energies as evidenced by their uhhs and poohs are uttering prayers in a state of exhaustion.

     The child was running down the stairs.... He was running swiftly. On reaching the seminary, he suddenly remained steadfast. His eyes wandered about the walls. His lips do not move as in muttering prayers. He only saw the lens of the objective and stood motionless with a fixed gaze. He remained in that position for a few minutes. His eyes scanned the walls. Not a single word issued from his lips. He turned the tray towards me. Where was he taking the tray with the flower design? No querying was possible under the sway of those eyes. The way in which he looked at you gave you the impression that in his heart there were certain things weighing on his mind, which he wanted to pass a judgement on. He was merely holding the tray. Presumably, his words were included in this gesture. He was beside the Hatuniye seminary, the stairs under his feet; his utterances are in his eyes or on the same plane as the tray he was lifting up. The way he looks at the objective lens is identical with what is in his spiritual being. Where was the tray being headed? What would be placed in it? Would it be loaded up to its full capacity or be returned empty? Would the words in the eyes of the child climbing the stairs with a fully packed tray shine with delight a while later? For a while, he remains motionless. He was still holding up the tray. He had a sad look in his eyes. He gradually walked down the stairs without saying anything. The marble walls of the seminary gaze at the person descending the stairs with the purpose of going on his way God knows on which year, month and day of a certain century. The child with his tray pressed against his   chest   once   again   was   losing   his   battle   with   time.