The missing princess by Asmaa Nada chapter 1

as a logical step or a new step but as something expected to happen. It is wise to play memory in return for good or evil for fun or pain for happiness or misery and so life is sweet and bitter and what happens becomes eternal.
The lightmoving boat stopped through the calm waters as if the oars were flashing and dripping and it crept from the violent sunlight of July to the cold shade of the lambs. She sat in the swinging boat with skilled fingers protecting herself from stray moving branches and again the water turned golden under a semitransparent green umbrella. The bank of the waterway filled with herbs was of emerald color.
We waited again in the cold shade with the myriad sounds of nature merging into that sleepy buzz that in an adequate environment can make one forget the big world with its troublesome problems and its most disturbing joys. In that blessed isolation the little girl lost the traditions of her narrow upbringing and she told me in a natural and dreamy way of the unity in her life. With her sad feelings she made me feel how every family member in that spacious house is isolated because of her fathers ego and prides itself on admitting loneliness. Flight seconds multiplied indefinitely. 
Because in the pillars of dreams existence like a musical spirit is merged into a state of straying and so the memory recedes over and over during sleep It seems that there is no complete rest even in the gardens of Aden the snake looks at its head from among the branches of the tree of knowledge the silence of the dreamfree night is broken by the roar of the avalanche. 
Sudden flood hissing rings the engine bell indicating its sweep of a sleeping American city the distant oars click over the sea and no matter what it breaks the magic of Aden it seems that the umbrella of green spaces is above us. Decorated with diamond light points it trembles at the continuous paddle rhythm the turbulent bell appears as if it will never stop.
The doors of sleep were wide open once and my alert ears were greeted by annoying sounds there was insistence behind the constant click of the door when thinking about someones need for me. I was without premeditation outside the bed instinctively looking at my watch where it was three in the morning. I went in a nightgown and slippers to the hall door and when I opened it a man in his body was standing in front of me knowing that he was the butler of a family and he was pressing one of his hands without hesitation on the electric bell. As he hit the other on the door he made a constant noise.
The moment he saw me stop the noise he instinctively raised one hand to the edge of his hat and the other took a message out of his pocket. The