MEHRDAD NARAGHI

The fairyland calls upon us,
Among the trees that stand still
Only to be viewed as symbols.
At a place where everything and anything is possible to be seen
A miracle raised from a dazzling light
Peeping through the amorphous leaves.
Inside a mysterious gloom where no decoding is expected

In this land,
In this fairyland
Far beyond the bitter logic of time,
Far beyond our unchosen land of birth,
Far beyond the past grieves and future anxieties,
Safe from the games that life ceaselessly plays upon us,
Every minute, every second…
A reflection of our childhood stories
A return to them
No! Not the hapless ones
Not those that drown us in pain…

We then gladly enter the gate of this fairyland.
If only our feet is not too glued to this earth.
We will then either be puzzled, gazing and waiting for a magic that has long been expected…
Or sleep in the meadows
A step toward eternal peace,
An eternal rest.

Mehrdad Naraghi

The sense of emptiness of a house whose occupants have departed is somehow striking for me. There is a profound feeling -somewhat- strange about the abandoned houses. Most of the time there is a sad story behind it; forced immigration, need for money, grown children who have left or even death.

We can feel it through the remains which occupy a place here and there. The things that have been forgotten or ignored to be taken along seem useless now. In addition there are objects with memories which were left intentionally untouched so as to be forgotten or maybe left to be part of a history.

Time plays the main role for this abandonment. The pictures of large gatherings, child's birthdays, wedding parties and ... are covered with dust and left on the drawer. Yes these are all reminders that time is passing.

Live memories of moments have continued their life and have led us to an essential question. Which one is more real, a person who was sitting on the arm chair and has been recorded in my mind or the empty chair?

It's left for me to believe that its typical characteristic of human existence which we can feel, hear and smell even in absence.

Mehrdad Naraghi