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A knack with a view
I looked in the mirror the person opposite was not really fit for work


May 20, 2005

Glasses don't stay clean for long. I always have to wipe them. I need them to stare at the computer all day. If they are muggy they hurt my eyes. The only problem is you need a clean cloth to keep the lenses transparent. And I either lose mine or if I don't it will be too dirty for the job.

Today sitting in front of me Mac I couldn't see much, my lenses were too dirty. I could always use my shirt but that is seventy per cent polyester not cotton, what you need. The little wipe I had smudged. My lenses were dirtier than before. Greased hands from my BMX ride to work -- it's a big BMX -- didn’t help. The chain kept falling off, not fun at a big roundabout.

My bike is another story. Nowadays I can't ride it without my specs. I could bump into something -- a rush-hour driver or even death. But let's not digress.

I went to the toilet. If you work in an office the toilet is not only a toilet, but pretty much the only place you can spend quality time on your own. A place to compose your thoughts and, come three o'clock, to re-energise, do yoga. It is also a place, if you are really desperate, to lean on a cubicle wall and have a power nap. I can't imagine doing that at home, how strange that would be: feel a bit tired, not lie on couch or bed, but hit the loo for some peace instead.

When I got to the loo today three other chaps were there, none to pee. One brushed his teeth, the other -- a sales suit with dapper long hair -- adjusting his tie and another inspecting newspapers on the floor by his ten-minute throne, left by the last monarch.

I looked in the mirror the person opposite was not really fit for work. Still he needed clean lenses and I thought I
would help him out. I washed the cloth I had in my pocket with pushes of soap from a dispenser. I pressed and twisted the cloth and soon it was clean. I had decided to place it on my computer's hard drive to dry slowly, hopefully by noon. I could coast it until then. Once I had washed it, however, I noticed a hand-dryer on the wall so I stuck the cloth under it until it dried. It was crisp and shiny and so, in a moment, were my glasses.

For letters section
To Peyvand Khorsandi

Peyvand Khorsandi




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My Uncle, Napoleon
A Comic Novel
by Iraj Pezeshkad
translated by Dick Davis
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