Tehran

Tehran is scum. All this congestion in a sweltering afternoon while a drop of sweat trickles down my forehead towards my mouth, that ragged man nearly falling into the gutter, or the other digging into that ground for trash to precipitate death, all those stinks of packed people in a train and the touch of them robbing you of your soul, all those people talking with the same language to you while can't understand eachother, all these frauds surrounding me, all these robbers of ideas, the disturbing sound of Azan which reminds me of the time of lie, all this nonesense, the cynisism, the suspicion and the pessimism of mine, the feeling of looking at hungery people and the feeling of touching old bricks thinking that they will one day take my life away gives me the feeling of nausea.
And I love nausea.

A Slave

The kitten asked his father “Is it true that some fathers eat their children if they are hungry?”
Father scratching his back against a tree answered “No, fathers are here just to be an example and help, not to destroy,”
God was observing their every move and word, “Can’t you see my body? BOW.”
So they bowed.
The kitten boldly and childishly asked the same question but this time from God.
“It is a matter of boredom. Today you create and tomorrow when you are bored with it you crush it, annihilate it. And you get bored so quickly. Look at your father he is now in the rubbish and flirting with another would-be mother, and doesn’t care that I am watching after him. What a loose slave?”
After some miaows, the father ran after the mother of ten possible kittens, she had the ability, and both vanished in the dark of the city which was as dark as everybody’s house when people are asleep and no light is on.
Morning arrived, so the kitten felt hungry, so went to the heap of rubbish beside the street and so saw his father lying in the middle of the street with his head crushed. A car had run over it.

Words of a Dead Man

I am dead, six feet under.
Well now that I cannot move, feel, talk and think, I suppose I am being heard because I am of no use. In other words, because I am there or nowhere, I am getting attention.
I think this is the first time in my whole life that someone is listening to me, listening to some words that have no voice, no power. Well, I am really happy and grateful to you for giving time to me, happy?How could I have a feeling now?
Heart Beat: when there is none, when the heart has ceased to move like a stone, how you can you expect emotion to come out of it?
So what could I say to you that are reading and listening to me? ?wow, found the answer. To appreciate you, I would enclose with my will some money to give each of you then you could feel that I am thankful. You could touch the money and then you would be pleased instead of me and that's ok. Touch is a vitality, but touching a paper or human skin or human hair?Which?Which?I think now it makes no difference.
I wish I could touch a face, your face(bearing in mind the islamic principles??Oh yeah.), the green leavs in spring.
"Everyone becomes famous and popular for some moments in life,"they say and perhaps this is the moment of my popularity, the moment of vague pictures.The moment in which those pictures are being depicted in your minds.
Most people seek immortality, it might be because when they walk they leave firm traces but mine are just in a snowy day which will melt soon as the sun arise. Well as the sun arise after a long sleep next morning I wish my blurred images in your mind would become paler and paler till it fades into a colour which is unfamiliar to anyone. A colour which is not a colour and reminiscent of nothing.

Our Red Fish

Blithely and clumsily, one followed the other, its fin touched the body of the other and unaware of what future holds, ran away. They would do that every day, everyday they would float in their free dominion. I said free but don't know how it came out of my mind. It might have been because of their free movement that I said they are free but it isn't a good reason.They move fast and they are flexible but I have read that freedom is directly related to fear. I mean it said, if we overcame our fear we would be free.They move fast but I sometimes put their fast swimming down to fear,so they are not free?My fish always move fast because I am in the vicinity and they are afraid of me and I respect their fear because I know what kind of creature human is.So they are not free but look free and carefree and as I said they look.
They were a couple of red fish, I say red because their colour was prominent in comparison with their filthy water in which they lived.In this filthy water they did anything,made love, played,feed themselves and lived.And I insist in the filth they lived. Do you think fish is comparable with me and you?Ofcourse not, what a foolish question?Just look at our body,we are huge comparing with them.And I don't want to mention our power with which we can sqeeze those fish in a split second.And now lets get to the feature I like most, can you guess what I intend to mention?Just strain it a bit and you can find out that that is brain.Do they have any?Ha Ha, I don't think so because,because, I don't remember why!!!..?...b e c ause their brain is as big as a pea.
Once those fish were taken out and seperated for we wanted to change the water and clean their environment. One of them went into one house and the other into another to be part of the celebration of our new year.They are a symbol of life.As I said they were carefree and clumsy???One day passed,...
and one of them died in that clean new water and the other kept moving... and hasn't ceased moving since then.It would be embarassing if this restless fish could just speak out.

I am a Whore

I have a good job , very satisfactory . I really enjoy my profession , so do my clients . After leaving me they are soothed , the same feeling when you learn something useful . They give me money and I give them service , the same business all the people do with the difference that unlike many people I enjoy it as much as men , do .
I am getting ready now as all the people do when they want to attend to a business . A doctor always cleans and tidies themselves to look smart so when they want to touch the patient , the patient can trust them and it is the same for the teacher . If they are not attractive , the students won’t listen . If you are an actor , your producers look at your beauty . And even if you are a refuse collector , first you have to wear your uniform . So like every job I have to perform some ritual . I took a shower and now I am putting on my make-up as I am naked . What a beautiful , young body I have , everything on its place and with its proper look , very bewitching . A kind of body even women can fall in love with . And I don’t want to mention my face and especially my cat-like eyes with which I can hypnotize every man , nor my legs between which they can indulge themselves in . Nor my arms in which they can feel temporarily safe . Let’s not talk about my breasts by which they can go back in time and be a child again , which is everybody’s dream . Yes I am a whore . And now I am getting dressed to go out and do some business . Business . ….. .
I am back home again and worn out , run out of stamina . Tonight streets were very quiet and had difficulty finding a customer . So walked and walked . People gave me different looks , and I don’t mind them . But I detest one most ; the way women look down on me . They consider me the scum of the earth , but to my mind they are no better than me . They are intolerable , they make the men and themselves tired . They are forced to have sex with their husbands because of jealousy and in order to say " See I am the one who loves you , " .
And sometimes I laugh at them because their beloved husbands come and pay me for sex but they pay the wife for being a good maid or perhaps a slave . Both want each other as slaves , contrary to my nature . So they secretly do anything they aspire . Tonight was an experience ; I was with a half religious man who at the end said " Now I understand you need Skill ( as you know every profession needs specialty ) , perhaps more than Tony Blare . " You know he had betrayed his wife like the scores of clients whom so far I , myself have had . But I can remember none of the names , faces and their bodies . Not only me but most of the people can’t remember . A teacher or a Person during his career sees many people and gives many things such as a short time of happiness , a piece of information or perhaps a product and of course for money but the only thing that remains is forgetfulness of the faces , forgetfulness of the love you have given them , forgetfulness of the identities .
Oh by the way , I forgot to tell you my name ; I am … Whore . Every body calls me by that so what’s the use of another thing . Isn’t a name just for calling someone ? Or is it hereditary ?
I have inherited it from my mother , not my father because she didn’t know my father . So I am happy with that name , but I don’t know my child is going to be happy with it or not . But what if my child becomes a boy ? Oh in that case he can have sex with me as I wash him in the bath or whenever he wants and then he will never be starving like those in the streets .
It is past 3 , so I should go to bed and gather power for another day which god knows is going to be hard . My mother always used to tell me " ‘ Whore ’ money doesn’t grow on trees . You should get fucked up to get what you want . "