Oh, God! If the cry of one of your poor people is so loud, what will be the cry of millions of your poor and needy people?! Bank, credit, medicine, debt, tappi, death... I hate all the words in the dictionary! If I set fire to the usurious banks, large and small offices that do not recognize death, which are destroying orphans, prisoners, and the poor, and to pain, poverty... won't the world burn?! If I pick up your children who are warming themselves with tappi in the twenty-first century, won't the sun melt?! Don't lift my son, your old man who doesn't have the strength to lift a crane, your grace that strengthens thousands of your workers who are aging in the fields, markets, construction sites, in the cold forests of the rice fields, and in the factories of the Karis - a child, a child...

I don't know how much time has passed since then, my eyes are closed. The time is 01:00 at night. My son stroked my face with his small hands and woke me up with a little fear: "Grandpa, you fell asleep without reading the night." I can see that he has a joy prayer in his hand. We stared at each other for a while. There is sadness and love in my son's eyes. I went and performed ablution, and my son followed me, praying. I took the prayer from his hand and started praying...