I was only one when Iran revolted in hope for change. Now I look back and wonder about those who made it happen. I can't put myself in their shoes though as my world is very different from theirs. Chanting "No East, No West" is no longer valid for me. I am neither ready to change my life for an ideology. If they wanted Iran to change the world with revolution, I now want it to embrace the world with open arms.
I was one when my people had a dream and went for it fiercely. They paddled hard in hope for a better place but reached an island of isolation. It was a land after all but they always threw messages in bottles and cried to get out and never to actually live there. It came out to be very different from the dream, yet after thirty years, people still dream about change. Some dream about making this a better Island, some about leaving or even sinking it and no one seem to really know why and how. We are Iranians and we dream. We write poetry, sing sad songs and dream, each in our own individual island.



