Item Details

Item No. M9

"We kids made nine with Father and Mother and the blue ceramic vase and the astray nightingale.

On the New Year's Eve, Father used to plant flowers in small wooden boxes.  And left yellow, blue, red and white pansies for the late March garden.  He got the inspiration for the pansies from my mother's chador.

WHen my mother started her prayers, all the petunia flowers on the prayer rug became bewildered.  She had a ring with an agate bezel in which she saw herself.  The alphabet of my mother's look could be seen in Nastaliq calligraphy in my father's eyes, and we practised one page of it every day.  We washed our homework with the pomegranate juice that came out of the heart of the little garden in the yard; and dried them under the rays of the winter morning sun that rose from the blue ceramic vase and let them fall in love.  One day we were sitting behind the fence of my mother's eyelashes when a wind came and took away all of our red howework.

Several years have passed since that endless event.  Now, anytime I see someone eating pomegranate with joy, I think he too has been an accomplice of the wind."