She felt a sudden depression and said: The place itself isn't important. He asked her, while admiring the beauty of her features: What do you mean? She replied: Nothing, but it's not important for me to live in a luxurious house and feel imprisoned by it. He asked, with a gentle voice: Truly imprisoned? She answered: Sometimes. He said, deeply enamored with her looks and voice: We are all imprisoned. Imprisoned by what? There are a hundred prisons within us. Their eyes met with a warm, vibrant glance under the red light. They shared a laugh, and he jokingly said: What if you saw the Abbasids' basement? She surprised him with a simple reply: I've seen it. He was astonished: Really? She answered playfully: I've entered your room and seen your library. He seemed delighted as he said: Oh, my humble room. She felt a happiness akin to a tickle: Its simplicity is beautiful. He asked: Is there such a thing as beautiful simplicity? Yes, she said, do you know how I described your room? It's a philosophy of living close to the ground, with the mattress on the floor, the recorder, plenty of books and cassettes, the cigarette tray, and a candle, oh what else? Their conversation had a background music like chirping, a raw first attraction, a spark touching the hearts of Adam and Eve. Publishing house: Arab Scientific Publishers/Lebanon Number of Pages: 128 Year of publication: 2008