statistics textbook

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"This was his favorite song. His eyes squinting, his face became fluid and small waves radiated out to his chest. His lips flattened out and quivered, a butterfly fluttering over a flower; sweat ran down his forehead, he looked savage and tender at the same time, a warrior and a lover.
The song told of a door opening and closing, of evenings followed by dawn, of waiting and of yearning. Never of honor, never of revenge.
Pylos, he said.
How is it in jail, I asked
Good, he said. You make friends. You wait. You have something you wait for. Outside.
A woman? You don’t have a wife, I said.
I have a son, he replied.
You have a woman that you love?
No, I do not have a woman that I love. You do not love women, you desire them. You respect them for giving you sons. You love your friend; you want to be like him. You measure up against him day and night. You fight him, with him, for him, you rape and kill with him. You never betray your friend."
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buddies in Ottoman societies!

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