The League of Devils Arabistan Gardens Part Two

I was struck dumb with The League, despite the screaming of my thoughts. I won’t discuss the language and plot, as this is a given with your books. It’s enough to know your mastery of them when readers ask if they are real or a figment of the imagination! All this astonishment is evident in half the language, the other half in the titles, and a third in between the lines. Do you know the effect of an old movie that, despite memorizing its scenes, makes you cry every time you watch it? You are not naive to cry over the same scene several times, but the magic of great works maintains the firmness of their greatness and strength, no matter how long time passes and you change, the same is the case with your writings and letters. To what extent can a person get involved in a story to the point of impersonation, to the point of loss and imprisonment. I thought that my only way out was its last page, but I think I was wrong. I wandered in its desert and stayed in the darkness. I ate from the dates of the palm trees of Hajar and drank from the springs of Yamamah, searching for a world I loved and in which I was lost. I searched for the dark-skinned one, but I did not find one. So I wept over the lover with grief, and with the sadness of the chief of the jinn, I felt I entered the kingdom of the crown of kings, and I was astonished by the whip of the executioner. I searched for an exit door in the corners, and I read a talisman, and with its owner I sought help. I summoned a demon and was afflicted with possession. I participated in the commotion, but showed no mercy or forgiveness. With Hanan’s revenge, I shouted, “I have triumphed.” Well, I did not do that, I only read.