![]() The sign that you weren’t alone, the means of making a connection. Each reassured that no matter what space you find yourself in, even in this fractured world, there was a unity. For a secularist like me, the coincidence reinforced Akram’s lesson on the circle and the line. We stood there for a minute, and it felt urgent that he acknowledge it. The tile hung a short walk from where he worked-what were the chances? To find an image based on the sura of Yusuf in the Ashmolean, that venerable British institution, seemed like some sort of cosmic nod. I was ridiculously pleased to stumble upon this so soon after the Yusuf lecture, and to see it with the Sheikh. In lapis and turquoise, with touches of pink to set off the cool blues, some eighteenth-century Iranian artist had painted the women of Memphis, lounging on rugs and looking, amazed, at handsome Yusuf. ![]() On a wall hung a set of Persian tiles decorated to illustrate “Yusuf and Zuleikha,” a poem by the Sufi poet Jami that was based on the Quran’s story of Yusuf. ![]()
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