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