Third in a series of blog entries out of Iran, its liberal voices seeking a new way to live proud and free from political and religious tyranny.
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I could feel the searing sun like a piece of burning coal on my veil… My veil and my long robes make me smell like a corpse… I walk on the street but can’t see the end… Far, far away, a group of trees are doing a choreographed dance…
And I on the street, I’m walking… Passersby, those in cars, can’t see me, as if I’m here but I’m not… Far, far away, I can see a mirror that has taken up the width of the street… And the nearer I get to it the more distant I become… I’m walking in a scorching heat that rips the breath out of you…
I catch a glimpse of myself, lighter, lighter, and lighter… With each step in my mind’s eye, I no longer feel the burden of my walk.
I’m wearing a white short-sleeved top, green shorts, and a scented straw hat… I no longer smell like a corpse or like my grandmother’s damp basement.
I walk freely and am spreading my fragrant sweet dreams among people who cannot see me… They’re running to get away from the harsh, searing sun… What ecstasy…
There is a hand on my shoulder that abruptly swallows my world… The toxic street voice with rage barks: “Pull your veil forward!” I hear, but I don’t want to hear it.
The street filth puts his hand in his back pocket to show he’s searching for something… His mime does not frighten me. He pulls out a transmitter from his putrid shirt pocket and this time pointing at his black patrol van, with fury, hollers: “What do you say now?”
As I was stranded between two worlds… at high noon… I was hungry and thirsty… in an endless street where right at the end the trees were doing a choreographed dance… My veil moved and came forward… A few steps away my veil moved back again.
– Atash