After the prince goes out hunting

Fouad wanted to wash himself away from the bleeding of missed trips, false talk, and empty weekly appointment schedules, from the noise of cafes and meetings, and the disgusting artificiality of artists and intellectuals, from his friends who drank from each other''s blood out of love and anger, life addicts and skilled book thieves, from his mother and her suffocating fear of him and him, and their quarrels. Repeatedly about everything, from "Take it and give it" and "Where are you, uncle" and "Under consideration" and "All on its own account". He wanted to leave behind the immoral city and the temptation of the streets and its cheap calls on the buying and selling sidewalks. The shackles pulled him every time to a lost joy, even if He performed ablution with light a thousand times when the traces of burdens and sins were removed from him. Did he forget what his old friend said to him, in their secret dream, the last time, "Just as you ruined your life here?" In this little corner, you have destroyed it in the whole world." Like this?! Without hope, Cavafy?! Yes, and without despair, Prince.