Henry Mehr, a prince of his old generation, was not only courageous and war-torn, but the heir of deep thought. In his face there was a calmness that would sometimes be filled with old sadness. The grief that seemed to have reached him before his birth, the silent legacy of the families who had taken over history.

He had learned from a child that the princes were ignorant before they were men, and that education was abducted by something: simplicity of living. At night, on the roof of the night.[1] He stood up and stared at the distant lights, and thought, “Is destiny something but repetition of the choices of the ancients?” He said that the power he saw was soon destroyed, but the one he understood was immortal.

In Persia, between the stone pillars and the halls that devour the empire’s breath, he was more listeners than the commandant, and his silence led the king to send him to the northern border for the peace accord.

Anti-discreative news came from skates. They wanted to do it, and they wanted it. The king sat for weeks and finally said, “The covenant will not last if it does not close with the heart. Henry Harry goes to the border.

Travel started. No, no, no, just a few. The heavens and the heavens were full, as if every step, between the earth and the sky.[2] Not only in geography, which was measured in his life.

Days passed through red soil, shallow rivers and cold winds. At night, Henry Mach fell asleep under the sky, whose stars seemed closer to Parse Geard. He then thought that humans might be like stars, from a regular, clear distance, but closely filled with chaos and fire.

One of his companions asked him, “What if this trip fails?

The prince only smiled and replied, “Some ways should be gone, even if their destination is not clear..

The first meeting with Arana, the daughter of the Eastern tribes, was inexplicable and fateful. He landed from the horse, the disturbed wig in the wind and the hands of fresh grass. He looked up and looked no. In him, fire and ice were mysterious.

He said, “If you laugh, the promise will be closed. He pauseed. Smiles first sat quietly and cautiously on his lips, as if he hadn’t seen the world ready for such a softness. But then he laughed, a short, bright and alive laughter, like breaking down a river ice at the beginning of spring. And with that laughter, there was something in the world. It was like peace before it was written on paper..

Return to Parse Gillard, without a peace scroll, but with a love in the heart. The king asked him, “Ponman Ko?” and Henry Mach answered, “The Guardian was watching. I will bring him, not because he is the answer to heaven.” The mother of the prince smiled; he understood that love had even the court of Persia..

In Persia, more than the glory of the palaces and the order of the gardens, he engaged his mind: carpets that covered the floor of the halls. He was familiar with Buffett from a child; in Astp, the tribal women are tissueing roles from memory, without a plan. They were more like the wind record, the route of the horse, and the memory of the winters..

But what he saw in Shosh had another world..

Horses in the fringes blended with a glorious order. And the stags are in a quiet manner. Every role, as if it were unwritten. He stood with these carpets many times and looked closely at them as if he was reading a new language..

One day, he turned to one of the roles and said, “You’re holding the time..

At the same time, one night, a thought fell in his heart. If his life and art were to be a bridge between the two lands, why would this bond be summed up in the covenant and marriage? Why isn’t there anything to carry both land?

Then he decided not to give himself to himself, but to himself. For the nights they had not yet come, for a child who was not yet named, for a house that might have been built between the two lands, and perhaps never proved anywhere. For a house that was not yet present and the future that was not yet formed..

He started with the skills of his hands, who were familiar with texture from childhood. They were the only secret of order, color and fit. She came from sheep who spent the spring in the Zagros..

The map was peaceful: horsemen, Iranian pawers and riders who had Persian splendor. Each node was a part of love, a little bit of the plain, a little bit of a little bit of nostalgia, and a lot of animp.

And so it was born. Quiet, bound to the node, such as a creature that is not made of wool and color, which is expected, touch, dream and a little magic. Not only is it a place for a tent or hall, but a covenant.

A house that could take it anywhere.^[3]...............