Aberoo
Thursday morning. Time to visit some of the Iranian clients on my caseload. I start with responding to a report about an Iranian male in
July 1, 1998
No Comments
Thursday morning. Time to visit some of the Iranian clients on my caseload. I start with responding to a report about an Iranian male in
“Would you like to go for mulberries,” asked Hamid in our way out of a friend's house after a night of poetry reading. We
Twenty years ago four Iranians disembarked an Air France flight at JFK Airport about to make a new life in the land of the free
Sunday June 21, 1998 – Lyon, France around 1:00 PM local time, eight hours before the big game. We have been driving for five hours.
My mother was ashamed of my grandmother's secret, but more than this, she was furious that I'd found out and extremely worried I might divulge
I read, enjoyed, then studied and contemplated my feelings about the exquisitely articulated articles by Laleh Kahlili (“Loving an Iranian man”) and dAyi Hamid (“Loving
Do not wait for the last judgment, it takes place every day. – Albert Camus On March 3, 1997, a 30-year-old Iranian woman showed up
I remember marigolds and the Taj Mahal room 302. Some streets and the bazaar, the train to Srinagar. The stars at night, sleeping with the
Some nights ago, surfing the cable channels in insomnia, I came across a quaint film I had not seen in nearly 20 years. The film
Let me introduce myself: I’m a sports-car-driving, cellphone-carrying, club-hopping, chauvinist pig. I’m no doctor but I am a telecommunications engineer. I’m also an Iranian man.
