Friday, December 5

My gifts from Iran


Every time a traveler comes back from Iran, horrid stories of that hell-hole of religiosity and godliness are always beside the sweets I receive as my gifts.
If you expect me to tell you one of those stories, you will be highly disappointed, because I shall not. Those stories are not good for your spirit. They are sickening, and depressing. Horrible, disturbing stories, each so shocking, that you need a century to recover from their shock. The tale of the society governed by “a piety” beyond any human’s perception, and ruled by the “righteous crowd,” who will slain their mothers for raising any question against their authority, is not a tale you would want to hear, over and over and over again!
“Are you sad upon receiving the gifts,” you may wonder. To tell you the truth, I am not too sure if I am sad, or overwhelmed! I cannot say whether I am either, or both! As an appropriate word, sadness does not suffice, when expressing the agony of hearing the miserable tale of a nation’s decay, its progressive moral deterioration, and the ongoing horror of facing the Evil’s workings. I only know that my spirit is broken, and a maddening urge to destroy the Evil is on its rise.



Katayoun

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