One,

You can send a message saying, I have a headache. I’m afraid I can’t be there. Thank you for the invitation.

But you are hiding the truth. You don’t just have a headache, your whole body aches. Your skin is changing, moulting, and it is terribly painful.

Two,

After many years, while I was recently writing a post here, I noticed that French punctuation is different and follows some strange rules.

Three,

I don’t know where I am going, and for the first time, that doesn’t make me worry.

Je sens que j’ai besoin d’être dans une autre langue pour continuer ; écrire en persan, en prose, ici, devient lourd, presque douloureux. Cela m’apporte du stress maintenant. Je ne sais pas ! Je pense que les mots me blessent. J’ai besoin de distance. Peut-être d’un nouvel outil. Un jeu nouveau !

Morning. The day begins. I love the light of the sun in the early hours. Sometimes I ask myself, what if this city vanished? I know all the people in my small neighborhood. Every morning, I say hello to them. I like the smiles of strangers who no longer feel like strangers.

My heart muscles are tired,
Painful
The deeper I go inside,
There is still an endless road ahead.

Sara M. A.

April nears its end,

This way

That way

The paths are all the same.

I walk through life’s months,

Until the last one comes.

Sara, Seattle

“It’s important to prioritize healthy working relationships and effective communication, so standing up for yourself and addressing any disrespectful behavior can help maintain those standards.

In the future, if you find yourself in similar situations, it might be helpful to address the person’s behavior or comments as soon as they occur. This can prevent any potential misunderstandings from escalating and allows you to express your concerns in a timely and direct manner.”

Sara, Seattle

We had to fetch iron ladders from the blacksmith shop. Bobby, a strong man with a handkerchief tied around his head, loudly announces to my friend, “Shahrzad is here.” My friend laughs, introduces me, and says that this time I really came with Shahrzad, the poet and writer. I quickly remember Elizabeth Bishop’s words: “There’s nothing more embarrassing than being a poet, really.” It’s comforting to hear myself thinking from another mind. Bobby extends his fist, and I lightly tap it with mine. It is a new thing for me. I am not in my world and what is my world meaning? We load the iron ladders onto the car and hit the road. I like long roads. Hello dear Elizabeth!

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster…

One Art

By Elizabeth Bishop

Sara, Houston

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“To tell you the truth, my friend, I did not care for him. He produced on me an unpleasant impression. And you?

Hercule Poirot was a moment before replying.

“When he passed me in the restaurant,” he said at last, “I had a curious impression. It was as through a wild animal -an animal savage, but savage! you understand- had passed me by.”

“And yet he looked altogether of the most respectable.”

“Précisément! The body -the cage- is everything of the most respectable -but through the bars, wild animal looks out.”

I close the book. How strange this text is to me! It was published in 1934. As I am curious, I searched for the day of death of Agatha Christie. She died eight days after my birthday. Meaningless information for my game!

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I’m writing this while on a flight. I’ve got a small tray table in front of me, the kind meant for meals. There is a cup of coffee that I’ve been sipping slowly, turning it into three cups over time. My small notebook and pen are my companions. The plane’s window next to me is tiny, about the same size as the table. I am in the cloud.

It’s been a good time for writing. I found myself thinking about Hemingway. If it was him, he would have finished a short story by now and sent it off to the Paris Review as soon as he landed, with the payment already in his pocket

Anyway, for me, it was a good writing piece. I have here my journey, and I prefer to think about this sentence by Raymond Carver: “A great danger, or at least a great temptation, for many writers is to become too autobiographical in their approach to their fiction. A little autobiography and a lot of imagination are best.”

My website needs a few updates, sorry