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   The second event was very important in the discovery of my style and the artistic forms I use. Irfan found a room for me in the street where he lived with his parents. I often went to his home. We did school work together, drew and I often ate with him and his family whom I loved very much. This helped me enormously. Financial difficulties had made me lose 7 kilos since my arrival. Though I tried to generate a little income by etching verses from the Koran on bits of glass and selling them in the markets after school, the going was always difficult.
   The room that Irfan had found for me was smaller than my first room by the tracks. The landlord of the little building lived on the upper floor with his wife and two children and I occupied a space no larger than 6 square meters on the ground floor. There was a bedstead of earth and brick in one corner and the door wouldn't even close. It didn't matter; I had nothing to steal. I accepted the proposal in order to be near Irfan and his family. The street on which they lived was called "Cinler Mahallesi" in Turkish or "Devil's Street". My landlord was a violinist who made his living playing for occasions of all sorts and in the bars in town. He often came home drunk. His wife was a saint, a person I will never forget, a woman of extreme kindness who made me feel less alone.
Her alcoholic husband beat her often on his return from work. I, too, was the object of violence from my musical landlord. On many an occasion, I would see his enormous form in my doorway, a stick in his hand profiled against the light coming from the street. He would fall upon me and beat me until his wife would come down and drew his violent intentions to herself and her children. How may times would I see her face covered with blood! The more I saw the dramas that unfolded in that house, the more I felt obliged to stay to do my part for the poor woman.