Living In The Islamic Republic

We Speak Of Facts, Yet Facts Exist Only Partially To Us If They Are Not Repeated And Re-created Through Emotions, Thoughts And Feelings. To Me It Seemed As If We Had Not Really Existed, Or Only Half Existed, Because We Could Not Imaginatively Realize Ourselves And Communicate To The World, Because We Had Used Works Of Imagination To Serve As Handmaidens To Some Political Ploy.

When I Was Teaching At The University Of Tehran We Were Struggling Against The Implementation Of The Revolution Rules.

Lots Of Times You Can Feel As An Exile In A Country That You Were Born In.

There Is Little Consolation In The Fact That Millions Of People Are Unhappier Than We Are. Why Should Other People's Misery Make Us Happier Or More Content?

I Have A Recurring Fantasy That One More Article Has Been Added To The Bill Of Rights: The Right To Free Access To Imagination.