Book3:WereMyDreamIs
ndthewalls.Actually,itdidnotreallywanttosteanythingbutwasonlycurioustofindoutwhatthemistressofthehousewasdoing.Shewasnotputtingonmake-upbeforethemirror,butwasreadingquietly.Thespringbreezewasreallytoonosy! Aisha,wearingherlonghairlooselycoiledinaonbun,wassittingtranquillyonthesofabeforeawindowleisurelyreadingabook,withherhairlooselySheoftenliftedherheadtolookatthewhitecycurtainsflutteringinthespringbreezelikethehemofsomebride’seborateweddinggown.Slightwriheersofhereyesonlyaddedtohermatureandentiyandlimpidandlucideyes,deepasacrystalclearautumnpoheverysymbolofwisdom.Lookingdown,shebegantoreadAngelica’stestbookofpoems.Aishareadonslowlyandatteryioutthemeaniweenthelineswherethepoetessusually