آهو نمیشوی بدین جستوخیز، گوسِپند
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آهو نمیشوی بدین جستوخیز، گوسِپند |
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Wednesday, September 13, 2006 ... You hate Iran, you detest the streets of this city, confinements make your depressed, and that you have to go. And I ask you, "What do you want to paint in New York? What should I write about?" that, "These pained figures of yours on canvas and these writings of mine are connected to the sickening noise of this city, the frightful landlord, these hateful streets, and all the ridiculous confinements imposed on you," that, "My love for you becomes unique through these things, that I can't kiss you out on the streets, that I would wait for your SMS for 20 minutes on the street so that you could tell me whether the landlord had left, for me to come back to a house in which you had turned all the lights off but turned the soundtrack of {Kieślowski}'s Blue on, and I would sit back and kiss you silently."
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