Baby Yunus slept through it all, the sound of eternity now living softly in his ears.
Ashhadu anna Muhammadan Rasul Allah… (I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of God…) azan in baby ear
Baby Yunus’s eyes, which had been half-closed, suddenly opened wide. He did not cry. He did not startle. Instead, his tiny mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’, and his gaze lifted—past his grandfather’s weathered face, past the lamp on the table, as if he could see through the ceiling into the vast, blue dome of the sky. Baby Yunus slept through it all, the sound
Emine gently laid baby Yunus on a soft sheepskin rug in the center of the room. He squirmed for a moment, then stilled, as if sensing something sacred was about to happen. He did not startle
In the living room, Yusuf—Emine’s father—stood facing the open balcony door. He was a retired muezzin , a man whose voice had once echoed from the minaret of the Süleymaniye Mosque five times a day for forty years. His voice was older now, grainy like sandalwood, but it still carried the weight of a thousand calls to prayer.