The colorful lights dimmed and faded behind the troubled times. Every legendary book grew old, diving into the enchanted pink sea. Their sailors returned carrying the Andalusian tale, shining like a captivating pearl adorning the faces of the Arabs. Everyone wonders and asks, where are the knights of darkness? Where is the defender of humanity? Have the pages of their youth truly withered? Is Andalus now translated in a wooden sheath? The memory of our Andalus is a pride, and its days a luxury for every literate. No land has died whose leaders were supporters of truth and sowers of good. Everyone longs for its gaze, dreams of sitting under its branches, people from all over the world marvel at its towering castles, its streets adorned with the letters of Islamic justice, captivated by the sincere, noble jasmine breezes.