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My city is one ravaged by the storms, an unrecognizable city, with undefined inhabitants concealed within its greyness. Dazed and confused, with gaping mouths amd struggling to breathe. Uncorned but for a smile at anothher's misery.
Neither breaths sighed return to be breahted nor are desires fulfilled; greyness overwhelms. My city is the endless rule of grey.
شهر من،شهريست طوفان زده; شهری از شکل افتاده، با شهرنشینانی محو در زمینه خاکستری. گيج و گنگ و پريشان احوال، دهان ها نيمه بازند و تنفس تا مرز تعطيل، مشكل. با نگاهي بي تفاوت و لبخندي به سيه روزي ديگرى.
نه نفسهای جامانده به ریهها باز مي گردند، نه رویاهای ناتمام کامل مي شوند و خاکستری بر همه چیز حاکم است. شهر من، حکومتِ بیپایان خاکستری است.
مهرداد نراقي، تهران ١٣٩٤
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.
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.