The Lost Coin

On a summer evening, the front garden of the coffee house was well lit by the gas lamps placed on the few wooden tables. Men of Aksehir were playing tavla. Nasreddin Hodja was, however, troubled. He was searching something beside the tables of the tavla players.

`What are you looking for, Hodja Effendi?' they asked.

`I lost a gold coin.' The Hodja said.

`Hodja Effendi, did you lose your coin here?'

`No, I lost it in that back alley over there.'

`Then why are you looking for it here? You should search the alley where you lost it!'

`But it is dark in there and I can't see anything. Here it is nice and illuminated, so I search here, where I can see better.'