Let's start with my guide, Professor Nesar Allington. He's a short man with excellent health and a cheerful demeanor. His hobby is creating unusual wooden furniture. There's a three-cornered table with one slanted corner that makes anything placed on it roll off. A 45-degree angled bookshelf with a post on top that, from a distance, looks like a person lying down with their hands on their head. He made a chair with two handles facing the opposite direction. One day, I asked him, "Sir, why do you make such strange furniture?"

He replied, "I make these to put pressure on people's minds. The human brain is designed in such a way that it doesn't want to go beyond convention. I try to take people beyond convention."

I asked, "Sir, a chair's handles are for resting your hands. It's necessary. Why do you eliminate necessity?"

The professor said, "Sit on the chair."

I sat down.

He asked, "Don't you feel uncomfortable about where to put your hands?"

"Yes, I do," I replied.

He said, "If the chair had handles, as soon as you sat down, you'd forget about the existence of your hands. Now, you won't forget. As long as you're sitting on the chair, you'll feel like you have two hands."

I couldn't shake off the professor's words. I was compelled to accept the strange man's logic. I quickly became close to him. As he sanded wood with a rasp, he'd talk about various subjects, and I'd listen in awe.

One day, I visited his house on a holiday. I needed to take two books from his personal library. The professor was lying on a chair by the swimming pool, his woodwork abandoned. He seemed a bit melancholic. I mentioned the books, and he replied, " Ali, let's go swimming."

I felt extremely uncomfortable. The professor was a single man, and there was no one else in the vast house. When he swam, he did so completely naked. I couldn't possibly swim with a naked professor. I said, "Sir, I'm not feeling well. I won't be able to get in the water today."

The professor looked at me for a while and then said, "I don't understand your prudishness about nudity. When my wife, Anny, was alive, we would swim naked together. That memory is one of the few joyful moments in my life. Now, I swim alone, but Anny's memory accompanies me."

I asked, "Sir, is today Anny's death anniversary?"

He replied, "You're clever. How did you figure it out?"

I said, "You never mentioned Anny before. Today, I heard you mention her, and you've been melancholic since morning."

The professor said, " Ali, my wife was the most beautiful woman in North America, but also the dumbest. She loved me like a madman. Perhaps being dumb allowed her to love me genuinely, while intelligent women can only pretend to love."

He then invited me to have lunch with him, and we ordered pizza, which was Anny's favorite food. After lunch, I was ready to leave, but I felt bad about leaving him alone on this special day.

The professor said, "If you have work to do, you can go. I don't need company. Sometimes, solitude can be good company. If you have time, let's talk. I'll tell you stories about Anny's foolishness."

I asked him to continue, and he told me about Anny's hobby of collecting garbage. She would shop for trash, and the basement of his house was filled with it. He invited me to explore it, and I might find it amusing.

Anny's obsession with soap and towels was particularly noteworthy. She would buy soap, smell it, and then keep it. She would also unfold towels, press them to her face, and then put them away.

The professor often took Anny on vacation abroad, but she was never interested in the local attractions. Instead, she would happily shop with her credit card.

One time, I visited Bali, Indonesia, with Anny. We stayed in separate cottages, and I spent my time by the sea, dipping my feet in the water and drinking beer. Anny was busy shopping, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. I wasn't having a bad time either.

One evening, she excitedly told me, "Today, I bought something strange. Do you want to see it?"

I replied, "No, you keep buying. You can send them all back home."

But she insisted, "Just look at this. It's a golden fly."

I asked, "What will you do with a golden fly? Will you wear it as a pendant? It's a dirty insect to wear around your neck."

Anny said, "Just look at it first, then you can give your opinion." I looked at it, and it was a piece of amber, about the size of a cigarette pack, with a golden fly trapped inside. The amber itself had a golden color and sparkled in the sunlight.

Anny said, "Isn't it beautiful?"

I replied, "It's fake."

Anny sounded hurt, "The fly is fake?"

I said, "No, the fly is not fake, but the amber is. The Chinese make fake amber and fill it with insects to sell to tourists. The real amber is important; it's a fossil. Many ancient fossils are trapped in amber. Scientists consider it significant."

Anny asked, "What is amber?"

I explained, "It's a type of tree resin that hardens over time. Ancient civilizations prized amber jewelry. Alexander the Great was gifted an amber chariot by the Chinese Emperor."

Anny said, "Just say if it's beautiful or not."

I replied, "Fake things are often beautiful. How much did you spend on it?"

She refused to tell me, saying I would get angry.

Anny put the amber piece on her cheek and smiled.

Ali, I told you my wife was the most beautiful woman in North America.

Yes, you did, sir.

That night, I thought she was not only the most beautiful woman in North America but also on the entire planet. A poet like Homer would have written another epic poem if he saw her. As a psychologist, I took her hand and said, "I love you."

Anny replied, "I love my golden fly."

I was slightly taken aback. In American culture, when a husband says "I love you," the wife usually responds in kind. Anny didn't, which wasn't a big deal. However, as a psychologist, I understood that Anny was becoming deeply attached to the golden fly. Obsession can be a powerful and destructive force, capable of clouding one's judgment and intelligence. I remembered this and kept it in mind as a psychologist.

Anny's obsession became apparent very quickly. I'll share a small incident to illustrate the intensity of her obsession. One night, I was intimate with Anny, and suddenly, I noticed she had the piece of amber with the golden fly pressed against her cheek.

I was about to take the amber away and throw it on the floor, but I saw her sad face and stopped myself. I gave her a brief lecture on obsession, but she wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed on the amber in my hand.

Another day, we were driving on the highway, and Anny was doing something annoying - coloring her eyelids with a pencil while the car was moving. I had told her many times not to do this, as it could be dangerous if the car braked suddenly and the pencil went into her eye. But she didn't listen. I ignored her and continued driving. Suddenly, Anny let out a loud scream, "Holy Cow!" and I quickly braked and pulled the car to the side of the road.

Anny said, "The golden fly. I always leave it at home, in case it gets lost. I did it today too. Now, I've found it in my bag."

I said, "You mean to say that the object has teleported? It disappeared from the house and appeared in your bag?"

Anny said, "Yes."

I said, "Your intellectual level is low, but I didn't think it was that low."

Anny said, "Then how did the amber get into my bag?"

I said, "You brought it yourself and now you've forgotten. You're obsessed with the object, and that's why this happened."

Anny said, "It could be. I'm sorry."

Although Anny said sorry, I could tell she didn't accept my explanation. She believed that the golden fly had somehow magically appeared in her bag.

A few days later, this incident happened again. I took Anny to KMart to buy some paper and paper clips. Suddenly, Anny appeared beside me, excited.

I asked, "Is there a problem?"

Anny said, "Yes, there is."

I asked, "What is it?"

Anny said, "If I tell you, you'll get angry."

I said, "I won't get angry, but I might get annoyed. Is it about your golden fly again?"

Anny whispered, "Yes. I put the amber in the drawer, and then I left with you. You locked the room."

I said, "Remember carefully. After I locked the door, you said you weren't sure if you had turned off the stove. I unlocked the door, and you went in. When you came out, you must have taken the golden fly."

Anny muttered, "I only went to the kitchen. Nowhere else. Believe me."

I said, "You think you only went to the kitchen. That's what happens in extreme obsession."

Anny said, "Sorry."

I said, "There's no need to say sorry. You need to forget about the golden fly. Can you do that?"

Anny said, "if you want, I will."

As a sensible person, I did what I thought was best - I hid Anny's golden fly. But Anny wasn't too upset about it because a major crisis had befallen her. She had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer and was admitted to St. Luke's Hospital. The doctor had performed the third operation, and radiation therapy had begun.

The girl who was more beautiful than a fairy was now like a ghost in front of my eyes. Her hair had fallen out, and her body had shrunk to that of a 9- or 10-year-old child. Only her eyes remained the same. All the beauty and magic of the world seemed to be concentrated in those two eyes. One day, the doctor said, "Professor, the radiation therapy isn't working for your wife."

I asked, "Is there nothing else we can do?"

The doctor remained silent.

One evening, I sat beside Anny. Anny said, "Look away. Don't look at me. I've become like an animal. There's no need to look at a dirty animal like me. When you used to talk about knowledge, I got annoyed. Now, tell me something about knowledge."

I said, "Science says that the entropy of the universe is increasing. That's the rule. As it increases, it will reach its maximum limit. The entire universe will die. My love for you will still exist on that day. Whether you become a dirty animal or a reptile, it doesn't matter."

Anny rested her head on my hand and cried for a long time. Then she said, "Can you give me my golden fly for a little while? I'll hold it close and then return it to you. I promise I won't ask for it again."

I sat stunned, unable to respond. The amber piece wasn't with me; I had foolishly thrown it into the Hudson River. I knew that if I had kept it at home, Anny would have found it somehow, and her obsession would have consumed her.

The next day, I received a phone call from the hospital. Anny's condition was deteriorating, and she wanted to see me.

I rushed to the hospital and was shocked to see Anny looking beautiful again. Her cheeks had a rosy glow, and her eyes sparkled like before.

She said to me in a sweet, girlish voice, "Thank you."

I asked, "Why are you thanking me?"

Anny said, "When I was asleep, you gave me the golden fly without waking me up. That's why I'm thanking you."

She removed the blanket, and I was stunned to see the amber piece in her hand.

The professor stopped talking, lit a cigarette, and took a few puffs. He coughed like an amateur smoker and then said, "I don't know how the amber piece ended up in Anny's hand. I don't want to know either. Some secrets are like secret love - they should remain secret."

Misir Ali asked, "Sir, do you still have the amber piece?"

The professor replied, "No, I buried it with Anny's coffin. Anny took her golden fly with her."

The professor looked at a photo on the wall. It was a picture of Anny holding a basketball, smiling. He said, "I took this photo. I often look at it and think that we all age, but this girl will remain young and beautiful forever, untouched by time."

The professor stood up, cigarette in hand, and quickly left the room. His eyes were welling up with tears, and he didn't want his student to see them.