After the revolution, my uncle deliberately adapted to the mask of heroin addiction and went through the whole program: ruin!Two-story house sold, the entire antique and antiquarian warehouse sold empty. This time was a heavy burden. My grandmother called the police and he was taken away by the drug police, he was taken to drug rehabilitation prison twice. One day we visited Davood in prison, the only thing he did for a minute was look me deep in the eye, for a minute and then he left again. A thousand words and a day, a thousand sword blows and a day.