Froiz

The Prince of Egypt, the son of Tutankhamun, walked slowly through the narrow streets of the sand city, his thin sandals leaving barely noticeable traces in the hot sand. The sun, like a golden disk, hung above the horizon, painting the clay walls of the houses in warm shades of ochre. He stopped at market stalls, where traders noisily offered their goods: spices, fabrics, clay vessels. His gaze slid over the faces of ordinary people - artisans, peasants, children running screaming between the rows. He saw how women carried jugs of water on their heads, their movements were graceful and precise, as if life itself flowed in their hands. The prince wondered: what does it mean to be one of them? To live without palace walls, without servants, without gold jewelry? He felt the sand penetrate the fabric of his cape and light clothing.

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