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He sang: The blows of love play tricks on men And destroy them stage by stage. I asked: am I acceptable? The elders said, Make yourself empty. I know what you mean, I replied But consider my state And show me some compassion, Sadness is only the start Of the weight I carry. 'Why were there so much troubles in the old world?' I asked. 'People disconnected themselves from Heaven and imagined they could get by'. 'And now?' 'Now the old ways are coming back. There are money lenders charging interest again.' 'I thought these were only market rumours'. 'No, they're true. A loaf of bread only satisfies five people now instead of eight. People are beginning to need more. In some parts of the eastern city, they've taken to locking their homes at night again'. 'My father still keeps an open house'. 'I know'. 'I miss my father', I said. An ache grew in me for the swing in our courtyard. My sisters and their games. I had twenty brothers and sisters. Some looked like me, some did not look like me at all. My feet dragged on the soil, the memories had made me heavy. 'Now', he said very gently, 'now, empty yourself'. I gave up my homeland. It smashed on the rocks below. We kept on climbing.