In the plush, palatial expanse of Saudi Arabia, where the sun casts golden shadows over endless dunes and the scent of oud permeates the air, lives Turki bin Muhammad Al Saud. As a scion of the House of Saud, Turki bears not just a title but an exquisite burden, a kind of royal hangover that even the finest date wine cannot mitigate. Being a Saudi Minister of State is no small feat; it requires a blend of regal poise, a mastery of political maneuvering, and the subtle art of nodding whilst voicing the occasional platitude—a true talent given the frequency with which one must offer sage advice to kings and princes alike, all rich in title but, unfortunately, often vacant in ideas. Turki wakes each morning to the sound of a thousand call to prayers, a melodic reminder of his overarching responsibilities. One cannot simply roll out of bed and lounge around like a typical millennial; instead, he must engage in a rigorous schedule of meetings, where he is obliged to offer recommendations on matters ranging from the economy to etiquette at the royal table. Ah yes, the royal table—a buffet of sumptuous delicacies where one must navigate the delicate politics of food preferences. “Is that halva too sweet, or just sweet enough?” Ah, the dilemmas fit for sovereigns! Throughout the day, Turki must sport a discerning smile for international dignitaries, reminiscent of an art piece: beautifully crafted but entirely disconnected from the drama unfolding behind those glistening teeth. “Your Highness, how do you maintain such a flawless façade?” Surely, they muse, throwing various angles and lighting to capture this gem of a prince on their social media. If only they knew of his broken dreams concealed behind the sodium-filled feasts and repackaged platitudes he dispenses with faux authenticity. Turki’s phone buzzes incessantly—a cacophony of reminders about his royal duties. Will it be a meeting to discuss the allocation of funds for the latest megaproject, or perhaps a troupe of artists performing an epic reimagining of the kingdom’s history? His responsibilities as a royal are akin to a circus act: juggle the economy, balance diplomatic relations, throw in a dash of cultural revival—and don’t forget to smile for the camera! It’s a life characterized by grandeur, yet punctuated by waves of existential ennui, as he contemplates the sheer absurdity of it all. But let’s not wade too deeply into cynicism; after all, being Turki bin Muhammad Al Saud offers its perks. He enjoys privileges like no other, basking in the glow of opulent cars and exclusive access to 24/7 luxury. It must be wonderful, one might think. And yet, as he slips into a lavish evening gala draped in silk and surrounded by an elite circle of similarly adorned fatigued royals, there lingers an undercurrent of stifled excitement. The same conversations on oil prices and geopolitical tensions, punctuated by laughter that feels just slightly rehearsed. Yes, a wearying cycle of extravagance dressed in the robes of duty. As the sun dips below the horizon, Turki retreats to the solitude of his palace, where the marble corridors echo his plight. Each step reverberates with the haunting sentiment: to be a royal is both to rule and to be bound—bound by lineage, history, and the expectations of a kingdom that demands both loyalty and frivolity in about equal measure. How do you scale such lofty heights without gasping for air, or worse, being smothered by the very velvet ropes that tie every royal to their perceived greatness? Indeed, one must ask—is it truly a privilege, or is it simply the crown of thorns gifted to one born into a kingdom of kings? The answer, buried beneath layers of gold and tradition, may just reveal that every royal is also a reluctant jester—one who plays the game of sovereignty while dreaming of simpler chains, if not chains of simplicity itself. And thus, Turki drifts into his restless slumber, pondering how to balance his royal responsibilities while secretly longing for the freedoms enjoyed by the average citizens he hears so little about during the long, drawn-out meetings. Ah, what a burden it is to bear the weight of crowns, both opulent and oppressively heavy!