Roya tucks in her hair further under her head scarf as she moves to make room for the two new passengers on the back seat of the taxi. As they drive through the crowded streets of Vali Asr, the southern Tehrani taxi driver starts his speech of daily complaints. The passengers join in complaining about the traffic, the government, the price of food, the electricity fall-out, the ruthless ‘gashte ershad’(1) , everything. The taxi driver sighs, “we were stupid to start the revolution, things were so much better when the Shah (2) was still in power. Khoda rahmatesh kone!” (3) He hadn’t finished his words when one of the passengers yelled out “Eh!”
She pointed to a poster taped on a street sign. It was a picture of the late Shah’s son, the Prince in exile,
