asadegh@yahoo.com

Azita, where are you?
Five years after Azita left Iran, I left for France; the war still was going on in Iran
August 9, 2007

Buying cucumbers
Finally I found the fruit and vegetable section
August 3, 2007

Hole
It wasn't the first time that I had to plunge to avoid death
June 29, 2007

Bald angel
My father was the one crying like a baby at the airport every time I was leaving Iran after a short visit
June 17, 2007

Being a foreigner
Living as a foreigner is like playing a guessing game
April 24, 2007

Taste of hatred
I start rotting in a world without soul, surrounded by women in black chador with eyes that never sees, with a heart that never feels, with a brain that never wonders
April 24, 2007

I still remember...
I can't hear the word war without losing my hands, my legs, my eyes, without decomposing into pieces
March 27, 2007