khatami should come

etemaad newspaper شنبه، 18 آبان 1387 - شماره 1814
همايش دعوت از خاتمي
موج سوم در صحنه انتخابات

ليلا حاتمي بازيگر سينما پشت تريبون قرار گرفت و ايمان خاتمي را به او يادآور شد. ليلا حاتمي با لحني بغض آلود که جمعيت حاضر

را به شدت متاثر کرده بود، گفت؛ آقاي خاتمي ما از شما مي خواهيم به اندازه ايمان تان مصمم باشيد و به خاطر کودکان و کساني که نمي خواهند کشور را ترک کنند در انتخابات حاضر شويد.

for mom

As she stood there
in the middle of the night
in front of the gate
that opened its metal mouth
and devoured her like a tiny piece of flesh,
she looked so fragile
that i felt i heard,
i actually heard
the ceaseless cracking of her skin,
from beyond the taxi window,
loud as if the glass pane of the entrance broke down
against the coldness of that most freezing winter
spreading there on the gray-with-gasoline snow piles;
she broke down
but when i looked out
for one last time
before the taxi prepared to leave
she was still standing there
in one piece
her right hand frozen on her mouth
as if to stop
her soul from leaving her body
as if to stop
all her sadness from becoming a loud cry that would wake people up;
and the taxi took its leave
leaving me with that lonely picture of her standing tall
to haunt me all the way to the airport

back home

The following two pieces I wrote when i was in Tehran. I can see some smiling when they get to the end of the first piece, but continue with the second then decide!

Nothing feels like yesterday,
even among the same people,
even when i walk in the same streets.
Something has changed here,
maybe it's the time,
maybe it's the place,
or maybe it's just me.
I sit among the same old
people
friends
family,
I walk in the same old
quarters
streets
alleys,
yet something inside feels different
a differentness that is unfamiliar
a differentness that's making me feel uneasy
making my breath run short
making me feel suffocated
when I see myself surrounded by all
the good old familiar

You are in this one place
and every so often, tears boil up in your eyes
because
you feel happy being in that place
while
you feel sad knowing that you have to leave;
and right then you hate your own happiness
as you can already foresee the sadness;
so you just wish it to end
before it is too late;
and then you force your legs to move
to help you run away
far from
in time
in place
before it's too late
before it gets into you
once again
as before
as always
as forever

flirting

He sits nearby,
close enough
for the scent of his body
to bring my heart to a beat
to bring my heart to a halt;
for his presence
to run through me
to give me shivers;
he sits nearby
and he flirts,
on the phone or
with the girl sitting to his side;
i smile a sad smile and look away;
he flirts
and i hate myself
and i just stand up and walk away

missing 2

you miss him
in the wrongest times of all
you miss him
when you think you are well beyond him
you miss him
when have another next to you
you miss him
even when yo have him next to you
don't fool yourself
it's not him that you miss
its the you that you were next to him
once upon a time
dissolved in him
in the heavens
in love

missing

It's not you whom I am missing
It's not you whom I am aching for
It's not you whom I am longing for
No, my dearest,
No, my love,
Don't flatter yourself,
Don't praise yourself too high,
It's the shoulder that I'm missing
the shoulder that let me lean on,
It's the chest that I'm missing
the chest that welcomed my head on,
It's the hair that I'm missing
the hair that brushed over my breasts,
It's the hands that I'm missing
the hands that caressed my thighs,
It's the lips that I'm missing
the lips that felt wet over mine,
It's the eyes that I am missing
the eyes that shied away from me,
It's the voice that I'm missing
the voice that told me
"I wish i could live with you,"
So, my love,
Don't flatter yourself,
This has got nothing to do with you.

us

I remember the first night
that first night when there was not even an "us"
just you and me
as it had always been;
I remember the second night
the night when we moved beyond you and me
beyond the familiar you and me,
the night we created an "us"
a secret "us";
I remember the nights that came
I remember all of them,
I remind myself of most of them
I discard some of them;
that second night
when we kissed in our secret union
you promised me:
that we would be
that we would stay
forever
as we had once been
even if not as what we were becoming;
that we would stay
you and me,
if not "us"
but you and me
together;
today I have lost you;
today I have lost me;
there is nothing left
of you and me;
you lied to me and I believed you
I lied to me and I believed me.

Scan

from Scan, by Helen Simpson, (Granta mag. no:98)

(the character is stuck in a train tunnel, on her way to doing a brain scan) perhaps this was what it was like, being born, the claustrophobic tunnel; ... what about before you were born, though? before you were conceived? Well, you can't remember it so it can't have been too bad, she told herself; presumably it will be the same after you've died. The trouble with this idea, was, before you've been born you've not been you; but once you've been alive you definitely have been you; and the idea of the extinction of the you that has definitely existed is quite different from the idea of your non-existence before you did exist.

(getting ready for the brain scan) Once naked she realized she was still wearing her watch, and unstrapped it. She was outside time now, along with the sick and the dead.

(of the scan) Never mind seeing her with no clothes on; she was about to be seen with no flesh on. The medical gaze was nothing if not penetrating.

Time was just another name for death, she got the point.

dear life 95

dear life,
a coinicidence, again. take a look at post no 93 and then check this out:
http://books.guardian.co.uk/graphic/0,,2155831,00.html