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December 10, 2006


The invisible traces of life
Slipping through my fingers
Disappearing through the moments
That I can’t even see
And I think to myself
The next moment may never come
I think to myself
Over and over again
Standing on the edge
Shouting good bye
When the rain touches
The borders of eternity
And sadness captures my soul
This moment can be the last…

Oh, I have painted you so grey
I have painted you so grey
My dear dear life
And I have painted you so green
You the moments of gone
The sweet bitter taste of loss
The reality is that
The winnings are shorter than
One can ever celebrate
Yet deceivingly sweet
And to win or to lose
Is the matter of Mind
But when the curtains are closed
In this darkness of life
One can never see
One can never see

Only home is left
The far far away home of mine
The graveyard of days gone
Standing alive
In the far away land
Bringing the smell of winter
And the white pictures of snow to my eyes
I can feel my hopes
Flying in the air
And sitting on the wings of sun
In the comfort of those flat rooftops
When today or tomorrow
Never  mattered
I see me being lost in life
And life consuming me
In those little moments of importance
When everything small was bigger than my eyes and hands

Take my hand
I want to fly back home
I  want to get lost
In the days of nothing

And when I am  home again
Remind me to walk with you
That  pale  childhood of mine
Will appear through the streets of dust
To play from dusk to dawn
Unaware of tomorrows
I think
I will remember all the faces and all the talks of little lives
Will anyone be there to play
I feel as if all the neighbours have migrated to the moon
And the friends of my childhood
Have disappeared in the thin air
And no one
No one will recognise me
And I know
No one will be waiting
But I know the houses
The nights
The rattle of life
The silence of life
The little unspoken loves
The unsaid words of lovers
And I know no matter
How far
How long my feet travel
The home will remember me
The little girl
Who travelled far and away
To see the world
And the world swallowed her in the days and nights of distance.

For letters section
To Farah Afshari

Farah Afshari


The Pursuit of Pleasure
Drugs and Stimulants in Iranian History, 1500-1900
by Rudi Matthee

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