Blog

Life Across The Sun

Well, I am supposedly a writer/novelist, but lately I’ve been going through a long never-ending writer’s block and this is too scary. I knew I

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The Enemies Of Happiness

Tehran, Summer 1987 In the first years of war nothing looked like any of the images we’d seen in the movies. Tehran’s trees didn’t grow

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Final Blast At the Hammer

I would like to invite all my dear Iranian.com friends to my final reading at the Hammer Museum! Let’s celebrate PEN USA 2011 Emerging Voices

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You Are So Sweet!

“You are so sweet,” I was always told. Now I am convinced they were right. I AM sweet, really sweet. Even sweeter than it should.

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In Between

Istanbul, winter 1983 “Come back tomorrow,” the police officer at the gate of the US embassy shouted. People grumbled and dispersed, to go back home,

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The Good Writer

When Ari Siletz offered me the opportunity of reading and writing a review for Jasmin Darznik’s first memoir, The Good Daughter, A memoir of My

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The Suicide Note

An exerpt from The Suicide Note… I read it Friday night for my first public reading organized by PEN USA: I looked around. There was

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Our Boy is Back Home

Many of you might not know about him, but for me it’s hard to talk about him without getting emotional, even though I have never

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Ali is Free!

Many of you might not know about him, but for me it’s hard to talk about him without getting emotional, even though I have never

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Nobody thanked me

Nothing moved. I was going to be late, I thought, looking at the smoke rising above the crash scene, only a couple of hundred meters

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Horse

Father’s day is approaching… and as you know, I have this special thing for Fathers, since my own father isn’t here anymore. So, in spite

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Loose screw

… I lit the cigarette and watched the full moon descending over the city. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mohsen and his last love. That

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Blue Cloud

It was the last summer we spent in Tehran. Everyone was supposed to leave Earth, for good. Mother and Alephba had already spent more than

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My Evening With Orhan Pamuk

Whatever has ever happened before this moment is irrelevant. Orhan Pamuk walked into the stage and the excitement of hearing him reading from his new

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The News

There are good days and bad days, even good years and bad years. But then, there are years like the year my son was born.

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Iran, a reflection: سهراب

For the “Iran, a reflection” Series همه میدانند که زمین می‌ چرخد که هوا بی‌ رنگ است که ستاره به سحر شک دارد همه میدانند

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اینجا کجاست

اینجا کجاست که گرمایش  سرد است که آفتابش ابریست جایی که باد  پرده اتاق را از پشت پنجره بسته  اینگونه  میلرزاند وقتی باران و مه

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A Very Short Love Story

“I don’t feel your arm anymore,” my coworker shouted. “Please! Don’t move. You’re killing me.” It was so cold that every one of his breaths

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من

A page from my old diaries of war…written while hiding in the closet of my room during the blackouts. It was originally written as prose,

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This great moment of change

Swaying from this moment to another, I’m going from age to age, looking back with resentment or thrill, to define this singular instant that carries

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My absence

Mehrabad airport is crowded. Everybody seems in a rush to leave Iran. The air is dry. It’s the end of September, but the heat belongs

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Soghra

The moon vanished behind the moving clouds. The cold breeze and the lifeless view facing our hotel room reminded me of the prison. Sahar and

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