Midnight, the ship's bell rings. The unknown senses you with an eye that you do not see. He stands behind you laughing at you as you search in the crowd for something that looks like you. Here he is, frozen in place, sitting apathetic. And suddenly, for no apparent reason, he jumps out of his seat and runs out into the streets. He runs and runs non-stop and is gripped by the "Amuk" fever.
Where does love take us when it suddenly comes like a stone in a stagnant pond? How will we keep up with him in the midst of our isolation and our bloody quarrels with the world? A miserable old question. This novel does not stop at the extent of its explosion, but rather goes beyond it to research what the simplest human emotions can lead to, and it is formed within a narrative pattern in which Zweig was able to well represent Freud's treatises and Dostoevsky's wildnesses, infusing that with the spices of the East, where love has been synonymous with madness since Qais Layla is the last of the Sufis running on this earth.
Pages: 96
