The walls speak. Now, they are asking me to speak as well.

A grandmother, but also something more—the balance, the fixed point one can return to with every turn.

There’s a pain in the heart as if it’s sore from walking too far past mountains,
looking for another cavity to beat in

My country, though I wasn’t your birth-child 
you still folded me in 
where I took root

Tell me your name 
so I can write it in the blank lines between stars

جنگ که شروع شد، من تقریباً هیچ کاری نکردم جز ماندن. نه قهرمانی در کار بود، نه فرار، نه پناهگاه، نه حتی اضطرابی که بشود اسمش را ترس گذاشت.

This body of work navigates the paradox of holding on and letting go, preserving fleeting moments of home while accepting their inevitable disappearance.

I said I’m not a poet.
A writer, but not the poet kind.
I know, I know. It’s strange to hear.

The act of collecting enables us to reframe context and create an entirely new composition.

از ساختمان سفید سنگی که بیرون می‌آیم، لحظه‌ای متوقف می‌شوم. چشم می‌دوزم به برچسب ویزا که وسط گذرنامه‌ام جا خوش کرده.

Mother who nurtures you 
in one gesture weans you 
and cradles the world. 

با نگاه به عکس‌ها خاطراتی از لحظات آن زمان برایمان تداعی می‌شود که دیگر قابل تکرار نیست ودر واقع این عکس‌ها هستند که آن خاطرات را جاودانه کرده‌اند. در اینجا با تأکید بر همین موضوع لحظه‌هایی از زندگی‌ام را ثبت کرده‌ام که با دیدن آنها می‌توانم خودم را در عکس‌ها پیدا کنم و روزهایی را که سپری کرده‌ام به خاطر آورم

Lost in the cloud of the internet blackout, a black cloud that has been hanging over the Iranian plateau since January, anything becomes internet.

All throughout the blackout, I would screenshot any picture and video coming out of Iran which sparked familiarity even if I had never been to the area depicted.

It was only January. Ears could hear the seething wind through faintly yellowed cypresses standing starkly in the vast nothingness of the plain that was keeping poppies hidden under layers and layers of white.

I recall the past to untangle the present, to understand how glimpses of possibility and promise can be muddied by forces outside of our control.