Where am I? who am I? Who will I be? I am lost somewhere in the gap between two generations. One who sacrificed everything at the feet of principles, a generation who thought commitment and ideas were the only reasons deserving to live and die for. A generation which despised love, which was said to put love aside by the trash can and forget. And another generation which treats love, like a blouse you wear until the excitement of being “new” and “Fun” wears out. You go through many colors throughout your young life and when you settle down it is not because you have found your one true love, but that you are tired. Tired of looking, and looking to settle down, to take your child to a football game, to have family meetings, to become a grandparent. The old generation was mute when it got to expressing her feelings, the new, consults google for writing his love letters. The old’ emblem forgo this life for the next, the new one flashes in neon lamp “Eat your dessert”.
I am digging, fast. Sweating and digging, I’ve got to get out. I will get myself out. Out of this darkness, of coldو of helplessnessو of bitter thoughts.
Let us celebrate at the day break. My tired hand will catch on your energy.
شاید تمام این تلاشها به جایی نرسد. شاید آخر هم با زبان مادریمان هم نتوانیم حرف هم را بفهمیم وآخرش هم باید به انگلیسی ژاپنی فرانسوی آلمانی ایتالیایی از خاطرات دورمان با کسانی حرف بزنیم که یکبارهم تو خیابان ولی عصر راه نرفته اند و یکبار هم ته دلشان برای بچه های دستفروش نقش جهان نسوخته است و یک بار هم مثل من و تو فکر نکرده اند که اصغر هم حق دارد جایی زندگی کند که همه به هم احترام میگذارند راننده ها بین خط حرکت میکنند دکترها و فروشنده ها لبخند میزنند وبلاگ نوشتن جرم نیست و زن ها هم حق دارند مثل همه بشر
ولی اگر نشد آن وقت با همه چشمهایی که پشت سرمان مانده چه کنیم با چه رویی نگاهشان کنیم؟
فکر میکنی میشود؟
