All in memories of youth
Time is the longest distance between two places.
How an old aunt crocheted violently to give vent to unexpressed feelings. She was short, black-clad, with her face and neck the leathery texture of tortoise skin, and had the indeterminate age of “ancient” in my childhood eyes.
You know the feeling of other-wordliness when you step into a new country for the first time? Iran felt like another world.
How an object can represent summers of freedom, youthful love and home