Diaspora

God

Who is perfect? My software code is never immaculate. Its flaws confuse my users. Its flaws shatter their belief in who I am. Its flaws start a kind of suspicion in the justness of my design. They name it their suffering and failure. I name it my “bug”, almost like a bad infection. Anyone who is part of this small world feels the agony of my mistakes. If my users had chosen to follow only the pre-defined paths I had imagined in my handy software manual, without going beyond my mindset, they would have never felt desperate or lost.>>>

خیابان شریعتی کوچه ی ساری

امروز می خواهم از تو بنویسم که سالها بود گم ات کرده بودم . از تو که چهارده سال بود در زندگی روزانه ی من نبودی .دقیقا راس ساعت شش عصر بیست و نهم اکتبر دو هزار و هفت بود که از باجه تلفن خیابان پنجم نیویورک به گوشی ام زنگ زدی و...صدایت پس از این همه سال فرق نکرده بود! >>>

Autumnal comforts

Every autumn, I set myself a new task to learn how to make dishes, I was always too apprehensive or just too lazy to try and make. I always love making fresh homemade soups, they are so easy to make if you have a hand blender and so deliciously moreish too. They can be low in carbs, low in fat… Basically low in whatever you want them to be as YOU are controlling what you put in them! So much better than opening a can of soup and SO much fresher and more flavoursome. Once you start making your own soups, you will never go back to buying them again>>>

Life before and after

On the morning of the Sept. 11 I was watching NBC news while putting my cloths on. You know that’s my habit of watching news while half naked, munching my breakfast, or shaving. The news anchor said that there is breaking news coming regarding an object that has hit one of the World Trade Center towers. I thought that it might be a small plane or something that has hit the building accidentally. So I went on my morning rituals, listening to the news in my car and at school via internet whenever I had a chance. When I heard again that another passenger plane has hit the second tower I went nuts>>>

Destroying Iran

Today, a great many Iranian opposition blogs and websites trumpet the secular nationalist ideology as the flag of opposition to the current Islamist government of Iran. The pre-historic glory of Persepolis is the other component to the complex Persian/Islamic binary of modern Iran. In its extreme form, this ideology is harshly anti-Islamic, denouncing the current IRI servants of the Arabs who have forced the yoke of Islam upon the Persian masses who would yearn to cast off this alien ideology. Such rhetoric may serve well in riling up opposition to the current government, but it is grossly inaccurate in its analysis of Iranian society and politics>>>

98% Muslim

You and your generation have been living under the most brutal, savage and radical regime on the planet. For the past thirty years Islam have been forced on you from the barrel of a gun and more importantly you have been bombarded with their propaganda day in day out, and forced to learn their ideology at school. However I am yet to find a faithful Muslim among you. If what your claim about Islam being forced on our ancestors is right then you all should have become good little Muslims as well. But we can all see, this enforcement and brutality have not only did not win you over but it also had an opposite effect on you. >>>

خواننده ای درون من

در مثلث نویسنده، متن و خواننده، خواننده نیرویی خدایی دارد، زیرا اگر او متن را نخواند، هیچ چیز به وجود نخواهد آمد و نویسنده درون حروف بی جان متن خود گرفتار می ماند. به علاوه آغاز کار خواننده به پایان نگارش متن موکول نمی شود، بلکه نویسنده به محض اینکه قلم بر می گیرد خواننده ی خود را در ذهن دارد و تصویر خواننده هرگز در جریان کار نگارش ناپدید نمی شود. به عبارت دیگر، هر نویسنده، درون خود خواننده ای دارد که نه تنها به او گوش می دهد، بلکه هم چنین با او سخن می گوید، و حتی گاهی چون همبازی خیالی کودکان، دارای نام است.>>>

The Reader Within Me

In the triangle of author, text, and reader, the reader has a divine power. If one does not pick up the text, nothing comes alive and the author remains trapped in the lifeless letters of the text. Moreover, the reader's role does not begin when a text is finished. As soon as authors pick up pens, they have their readers in mind, and the image of the reader never vanishes during the writing process. Every author has a reader within who not only knows the art of listening, but also speaks and, like a child's imaginary playmate, sometimes even has a name>>>

Content or shell?

Many years ago when I was paying my life’s due to the government as a private in military, on one of those trips that I was coming back home form the holyland of Kurdistan, I met a young student in the bus. He was sitting next to me in the row of seats closer to the dark end of the bus. I was drunk in the happiness of getting away from the smelly beds, disgusting food and suffocating military atmosphere heading towards the light, the feast, and the holly circle of friends. >>>

Another inferno

The phone in our quiet house comes back to life as friends and relatives call from all over the planet to make sure we’re safe. I picture them going through their drawers to find my number, a few still unsure of how to spell the name. However, the reports of the recent fire, especially the maps shown on TV, put us at right the center of this inferno. Callers are mostly worried, but a few sound so overwhelmed that I feel as if I have let them down by not having burned already. Assured that our neighborhood is in no imminent danger, it’s my duty to extend a helping hand>>>