2013-12-22 00:34:47

Letter 23

This nasty Facebook served a purpose after all. See? I’m still mean. I bet you don’t have to read to the end of the letter to know who has written it. How many mean fellas do/did you know after all? The mug you designed and gave me for my 23rd birthday broke tonight. Remember the design? I bet you do. In the beginning of the notebook you had designed for me too you had written that these two are your most exquisite works as a graphic designer. I never knew where you learned the word exquisite. I don’t remember using the word “exquisite” until now that I’m writing this letter.

Back to the design on the mug you made. It was a smile. It broke tonight. It should have broken earlier than this. Smiles don’t go well with me, a Middle Easterner. Smiles are for those who wear thousand dollar suits with silk ties, ratify sanctions, mail wars to others and go on to win Nobel prizes as a reward. I digress. These should not be the words you say to a friend who is found after I don’t know how long. My words should be gentler, they should be sweeter. Forgive me. I’ve gotten used to forsaking whatever is sentimental… Never mind.

Look, if your mom wants to get to know Iran, first of all tell her not to watch TV. Tell her on my behalf that Iran is a country where when someone gets liver cancer, they won’t necessarily get better and go back to school with the hopes of becoming a lawyer or a doctor. Don’t let your mom ask why Iran has to be this way. If she finds out the reason she may end up sanctioning your uncle. Or she might not do anything, I don’t know… By the way, I left my studies and came back to Iran. There was a man who once said: “Hope is the seed of our identity.” Germany’s weather was too cold for planting a seed, too cold for me. I feel more or less better now that I am back in Iran.

I remember two things from Germany. The first is people wish nice and sweet things for each other before the New Year. The second is this photo that I am sending you. I hope we stay hopeful.

I returned to Iran to try and plant a few seeds of hope in its garden. You stay where hope is too.

Truly,
Mo

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