“I may be just a conformist, nothing special, a puppy-dog servant of a revanchist state,” he went on, looking me straight in the eye, “but you’re no one to tell me whether or not you like the man I’ve become. You can’t give me moral lectures, Sira, because if I’m bad, you’re even worse. At least I still have a drop of compassion left in my soul; I don’t think you have even that. You’re nothing but an egotist who lives in a massive house where all you can see is loneliness wherever you look; a woman without any roots, who denies her origins and is incapable of thinking of anyone but herself.”
He really didn’t know anything
