I
thought you could be a faithful dog an Arabian horse unsaddled a forerunner to
some god that tastes unlike the dried dates of the tribe. For myself I
have torn up all heir's contract with the past uprooting my clan's trees
embracing the freedom of outlaws. Alas, I discovered your backbone was but
a pillar of fog frozen in the Levantine mirror of Narcissus; and you: nothing
more than a Sultan's herald another pimp hailing the virtues of the fruits of
the Fertile Crescent.