Strange...Yesterday I dreamed of HedayatI was in that old part of Tehran, walking along Dolat gate,
where my dear great writer lived 60 years ago
Then I had my red backpack
and I was biking in the rainy green alley of my childhood school.
Strange, there is something roughly lost in me,
and I suffer from something,
something deep inside.
Deep inside.... and I am not going to be okay....
But the vicious reality is ,
My blood still runs correctly in the vein
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