There was a time in my childhood when my life revolved around rabid bats, they filled our attic with chemicals and ate away at the rotting wood. That was the year we said goodbye to many when our finger count went too high, and our hands grew smaller with grief. The rabid bats would knock
یک My mother sends me a message, to tell me my Grandfather had a stroke. She never calls when she can’t speak. At Persian funerals everyone wears white, and lilies shroud the dead body in a valley of perfumed delirium. I like the smell of flowers, even at a funeral. White Lillies are my favorite.