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[ad_1] (48/54) “I didn’t raise them to be Iranian first. Above all I wanted them to be good people. I wanted the same things for them that I want for all people: to do the next right thing, to say the next true thing. But they were growing up in tough times. So many bad…

[ad_1] (41/54) “Mitra couldn’t sleep without me. On the nights when I came home late, I’d always find her awake listening to tapes. We still read poetry together. Even in the midst of the chaos, even on the darkest nights, even if only for twenty minutes. It was my greatest comfort. The time when I…

[ad_1] (42/54) “At dawn we woke to the sound of shots. First the machine gun fire, then the single shots. That morning I counted more than ever before: twenty-one. When the newspaper arrived that morning, I ran my finger down the list until I found his name. It has always been my belief, that if…

[ad_1] (43/54) “Thirty years earlier we’d sworn an oath, to give our lives for Iran. I considered it. There was one parliamentarian who fled to the mountains and died fighting. Even with one eye, I was still a good shot. I could have made a stand. But if I gave my life, it would have…

[ad_1] (44/54) “On my final morning in Iran I woke with the sun. I knelt to the ground and prayed. It was a six mile walk to the border. The road climbed through the mountains, the same mountains that ran through Nahavand. But in Nahavand the trees were green. Here there was no life. Ferdowsi…

[ad_1] (45/54) A jar of soil. That’s all I have left of my home. It’s good soil. A guidebook once called Nahavand ‘a piece of heaven, fallen to earth.’ But there’s blood in the soil too. There have been more wars on Iran’s soil than any other country. We’ve had more battles, more bloodshed, more…

[ad_1] (46/54) “There was nothing I could do. It was like watching a child fall from the roof of a building. I could only look on in agony. When I arrived in Germany there were two million unemployed. It was years before I could find a job. Resistance takes resources: you must travel, you must…

[ad_1] (47/54) “When our grandchildren were born we moved to America to help raise them. First came Ahang’s son Sepanta. Then when I turned sixty we moved into Maziar’s house to help raise his newborn twin boys. And that’s where we’ve been for the last thirty years. The year that we moved in Mitra made…

[ad_1] Why does everything look the same? A bland couch in a stark living room | MidJourney The notion that contemporary design is becoming generic, homogeneous, and just plain boring is not a revelation. However, this sentiment was recently brought to mind when renowned designer David Carson shared an interesting LinkedIn post stating, “the generification…

[ad_1] (49/54) “We still take long walks together, even today. There’s a path through the forest near our house. Mitra still can’t stand the silence. She’ll walk off the path so she can hear the dry crunch of the leaves. She still talks the entire time, but these days our conversations don’t reach back as…