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"A post historic man" This story_about a 19 years old boy's life is intended to inspire some thoughts considered as "post historic". There you will be taken through the atmosphere in which he has lived with all the dreams, repressions and hopes; those which contributed to making a post historic man. At the end of the story you will have understood what has been meant by the title, I .hope :Now you can hear from himself I was born in July. 1989 in a village named 'Rouma' from the province 'Madenon' in Iran. Roma is an ancient village located in a pretty cold mountainous region. A river snakes its route through the village since thousands of years. Rouma lays in a hollow of chain-hills, its geographical structure is great, we can call it a huge terraced arena with a river at the bottom and hill tops as the rims; descending the tops, it slopes down, then we have some even ground stretching to another slope with another flat land all in an irregular pattern. This pattern continues all around the village until the bottom. There are thick woods along the river, extensive moorlands at the foot of hills, and of course beautiful quaint gardens of walnut, vine, apples, peaches, cherries, etc between the woods and hill sides. Rouma is best known for its walnut and- in the past- its opium. Walnut is their main crop; .they host the national research centre for that People there are sort of conservative, ambitious and with a rich cultural background. Rouma is one of those typically Persian villages which in the past had been more populous and graceful than now. I have a pretty pride-worthy ancestry, many of them had been well-read and eminent people in their life time; they all have been farmers who have left their farm-lands for my kins. I also have a fairly populous family, my uncles, cousins, aunts, and the most excellent .flowers of relatives_ grand parents All of the houses there have been built with mud-bricks and timbers, often 2storey and in a U shape if you look from above. each floor consists of 6 or 7 rooms; the ground floor for the livestock, hay and faggot storages plus a furnace room; and the first floor for the household with a special room or rooms for .guests People have their gardens and farm-lands mostly not concentrated in one place_ and out of the residential area of the village. They irrigate their gardens with their specified shares of canals which are distributed from the river, and recently besides that diminishing system, by the help of electric pumps on personal wells. until the very recent decades most of the events in the village were formed almost as they were within 2 centuries ago, but now they've gone through many .changes By the description presented, I wanted to give you an impression of my birth_ :place, now starts my story

I hadn't stayed in Rouma more than a few months, when I was a baby my parents removed their house to Madenon which is 90 kms away for occupational reasons. On the contrary of his fathers, my father is not a farmer; he's got a 9-to5 job. I have one brother, a year older than me. The years I was born in were the years of broad emigrations from rural to bigger urban areas, and unfortunately I .wasn't immune to that phenomenon In city my family was from the middle class, but not exactly; it was a tough time, we were neither wealthy nor as poor as the penniless. A very plain life with ordinary parents. There was no home for ourselves; we lived as tenants in cheap and stuffy houses by the least possible amenities, not even a TV. At that time mummy had to make ribbon flowers to keep the pot boiling. “We hadn’t enough even to buy Clothes for you sons “, says mummy. She used to sew rag clothes into shirts and trousers for me and him. I can still recollect some images of my watching her nights and days sitting at an oil lamp and scorching the edges of ribbon petals to be shaped into a flower. However, the situations got better year .by year There are not any particular thoughts of mine before my 6 to tell you about, I guess before that I hadn’t the ability of dreaming. But at my 6 the most dominant and perhaps only memories I can remember are those of my tying mum’s head scarf around my neck as a cloak, getting a thin stick as a sword, a pot lid as my shield, 2 pairs of goose feathers as cockades and fantasizing that I was an ancient hero warrior. I was fond of white horses, they had frequently been sketched in my drawing books by my infant hands. Between my 7 and 9 everything in life was just plain, we were badly off for living; some times, I .remember, for breakfast we had nothing but a cup of tea and only bread At that time we used to call at Rouma and visit folks every now and then. All uncles and aunts along with their families came together from different cities in grand father’s grange on every vacation. They were all better off than us. You know what? There in village one couldn’t feel poor, because it was your own land and everything came down to nature rather than money. It was a lot of joy, playing games with cousins, digging holes in the yard, building doll houses with mud, chasing the hens, planting seeds which would never grow! listening to grandpa’s tales, contemplating grandma sitting at the furnace baking delicious .breads and cookies by the assistance of all female members of family, and so on When I reached 9, some other peculiarities had joined those of before in my manners, while those of before, I mean the fancy for being a hero warrior, had been evolving and being cherished day after day. I started to feel that the legendary hero besides and higher than sword, armour arch and a white horse

3 should have a kindred spirit. That was why in those ages, as a child, I had fallen in many one-sided and discriminate loves with some imagined and actual ladies. I also found that I was deeply fond of nature and wild life, to the extent that whenever we went Rouma one of my most routine businesses had become looking for motherless broods, wounded birds, insects, etc. and taking them in. in those years my stay in Rouma was mainly restricted to grandpa’s- the paternal.grange The other things I found interesting were historical issues. It was my all-time dream to have the chance to dig down the remainders of ancient dwellings and reveal antiquities and know about their stories, again to an extent that while going to Rouma I would seek the experience of the elderly to find out where to search for not only treasures, but anything related to the past. So my other hobby was to dig the ground in hope of finding something. However, even without digging you would run across fragments of antique dishes all over the village, especially in water canals. I’ve also had the experience to play pottery and make various objects out of mud, baking and then dyeing them, putting in a can and burying them in the yard; bearing in mind that all these had been performed with .the participation of cousins all under my leader ship The urban and social facet of my life in those years had been quite different; I was good at dreaming and showing interest in things which no one would credit, but strange to the social life. In city I was withdrawn, awkward and docile. What more can you expect from a child whose parents tend to be as ordinary and incompatible as they can, whose father has always stinted on his expenditures of everything making life comfortable, whose interests and vocations have never been cared about by others. In school I was always rejected by other boys in their games, for what? I don’t know. To cut it short, I’d say that even my family was not socially normal, father would’ve preferred to amass his money than to spend it on our convenience, he is the stingiest man I’ve ever seen. Nothing was wrong with mummy but her sincerity and naivety, she was oppressed too. I can see that father was the root of all evil in our life. Never the less, there was some .neighbourhood and school friends for me there I’m one of those who habitually talk to their selves all the time, mostly about my thoughts, to God, and criticizing daily happenings. You may not believe, between the ages of 9 and 11 I’d actually believed that I was in this world by a mortal mistake; I was convinced that I didn’t belong to this age and time, my genuine world had been in ancient times, and I’d been a warrior whom God has brought to this age amiss or something. I was insitu. For that reason every night before shutting my eyes I used to pray God hopefully to take me back to my origin. I was confident that He’d answer my prayers some night, that I’d not open my eyes to this world in some morning, that I’d see my kindred spirit on her white horse dressed in her glamourous armour next day. Not only in bed, but every where .it’d become my all-time preoccupation to return I had no idea about school yet. I can still sense the dread of not getting a good mark and being reprimanded by father or teachers. It was primary school; I was

tractable and careful with assignments. He just expected me the good mark and .was annoyingly blind to anything a child needed, he was uncouth As a child, I’d several times witnessed intense arguments in home between he and she that often would result in some black and blues on her. She’s never enjoyed her life; I can’t forget the sight of her sitting in tears in a nook which caused untold fear and anxiety in me. At that time I feared nothing on earth more than there again happening a fight with all the horrific sights and quotes. They .usually took place once a month I was also remarkably interested in epic movies and wild life documentaries on the TV. I had no strong opinion of the society and city yet; most of my attention .was taken with dreams and the like Days wore away in that way until I approached 14. Then all the peculiarities had evolved and strengthened more than ever. In bed, though I didn’t pray God to take me back anymore, it’d become my every-minute prayer. Even while setting off for Rouma I wished not to return to the city and to be launched from Rouma to ancient times. Then again economical conditions had improved not only for us, but for the whole nation. However, for us it’d been more distinct, and Let me .mention that father remained the same intolerable cocky man as before

In Rouma I’d generally become more familiar with different places and the restriction to grandpa’s house had been eased to allow me to venture out to farther and newer places. There is a hill believed to hide the ruins of an old castle; to get to there, you have to pass through quite a desolate wood with a maze of bushy undergrowths on the river bed and many other mysterious landscapes. It’d become my concern to go and dig it to see what lies underneath; in this way, I enlisted a small group of cousins- 3 or 4- and took them to help me with the job. It was a lot of novel sense; we left the home in the morning and returned in the afternoon. We took along self-made fishing equipments, I took my sword and crossbow and goody pouch. We found broken dishes, copied the guys in movies, caught big fishes and met many snakes in our journey. It was not easy to convince them to accompany me, but I was conformist and creative of fairy tale experiences for them. From the moment we bade goodbye to grandma they kept nagging at everything: “where are you taking us? We’re exhausted, you’ll find nothing, what’s the use of fishing? We’ll not carry on any further.” I coaxed them into helping me and in the end, I’d have accomplished whatever I had planned. In one expedition I either did archeology or fishing or adventuring or .most of all, fantasizing as a warrior I have a maternal grandfather too, with his family and house just a couple of minutes away from the paternal’s. I visited them much less than the other side at those ages. The situations in two sides were quite different, although they are .close relations

5 At that time I talked much to God, especially before going to sleep; mostly asking Him to bless not only us, all the people around the world; to not let another argument take place in home- which never was answered; to help the poor, to help me fulfil my dreams, etc. I was fussy about cleanness and socially coward. You know? Parents had nothing to teach me, they never acknowledged my .talents. Everything I knew and thought was owed to myself Between my 13 and 15 most obvious features of my career were definitely the dreams. I still had hope in returning, though a slimmer one. I eagerly pursued all the movies on TV which contained stories of heroes, about middle ages, Chinese ones and those about the Romans. I had had many attempts to make swords, arches and amours with wood, tin-plate and even like black smiths with iron on fire following the ancient fashions. Once I made a crossbow, it wasn’t so powerful and real but I made it by myself. Then I made a dagger out of a broken sickle by forgery which turned out to be artful and handy. Sometimes I came across helpless birds on my hikes in Rouma, I adopted them willingly and brought them .up motherly. Those thoughts were constantly whirling in my head There were other features such as the bloody arguments between he and poor she which never seemed to end, the dirty life in city, and this one I wouldn’t ignore- my getting insulted and ridiculed by everyone from class mates to cousins even to father for my face. Perhaps I’m not handsome, perhaps I – the external I – was unpleasant enough to get such badly hit. Though I can’t deny that in those days I wasn’t neatly turned out _ it wasn’t my fault. Once someone told me: “don’t you walk beside me, you’d lower my dignity” once one called me .ape. Those made me so lonely and depressed, I was too tender At that time we went to Rouma almost twice a month; most of days were spent .were spent in a city whose life I never enjoyed, ever hated Another feature I have to remark on which directly involved my family for 3 years was my brother’s mysterious cursed mental disorder. In my wisdom it wasn’t hysteria or epilepsy, he seemed to had been haunted. That caused great misery in the freakish life. They took him to several psychologists and even exorcists but it got them nowhere. That was a recurring mood; a week gave break and two weeks or longer struck. The matter had become so urgent; he was kind of a mixture of all severe outrageous fits. Poor mummy grieved immensely, let alone all her unmentioned agonies. I believe that it was a damnation from God by the .means of genies to punish us. Anyway, after about 3 years it cured by itself When I was 8, I remember, one night in Rouma I and my brother were in bed, both in a room whose windows looked onto the sight of walnut trees in the yard; we were not asleep yet, suddenly we noticed a snow-white owl as large as a big goose, lightly perched on one of the branches, gazed at us for a while, and then flied off the scene. The whole tree trembled but it caused no particular feelings in .us Getting into 15 a revolution began to make changes in my career; I took to

religion, began to concern about it; moreover, my manners were maturing. I thought I must be a true believer, cringed over many of my so-called evil deeds done before. I started to study religious books and say my prayers strictly. I became sort of abstemious person, watched my stomach, prayed God a lot to bless all humans and me, to guide the stragglers to the right path, to help the poor, to end all the wars and so on. However, again the most predominant issue .concerning me was my innate thoughts; they were part of my chromosome That was a time when I’d just gained enough wisdom to realize what was happening to me on the planet; or in other words, I’d shifted into a new phase through life. Beside punctual faith, a feeling which’d been latent inside me because of intellectual immaturity found its origins stirring. That was a feeling of strangeness to this world; a feeling of insecurity, loneliness and vulnerability which would never leave me. An instinct which told me I wasn’t the right man for this time and all its artificial effects, I was the right man for when there’d been .nothing but graceful, whenever they hadn’t still run up such a mess Around my 15 that feeling arose inside me to a degree that the exterior part of my daily personality was unable to resist and keep restrained. Except that, I’d reached some stages of humanity which led to tremendous pain in life and made me change my attitude towards Rouma- as a specimen of the world and historyin a perfection wise direction. Then the sensibility of a human was going to make .actions and reactions Now let me describe that episode, bearing in mind that my imagination still had something to play at; I couldn’t stop dreaming. a lot of my time was spent on sketching arms and how to make them, how to copy archeologists in some fields of Rouma, how to catch a hawk, how to build a cottage, how to weave a hat like the ones the Chinese used to wear in the past, how to chisel a statue like the Roman ones out of a block of stone, how to gain supernatural powers, how to suicide in a way that nothing would remain from my body on Earth, and a barrage .of other themes It’d been such a pent-up period of astonishment as I’m straining my brains hardly to give you a sense, so excuse me if I’m inarticulate. As told before, we lived in a city, I went to school, I was 15. Gradually I noticed how horrendous and disgusting the sights which I saw in urban life were to me. That was not a feeling to emerge for the first time, I’d already been able to feel all the stuff about that; .but then I was grown up enough to have my rage unleashed I was quite sensitive and soft-hearted, the houses in the city were ugly, the cars were unshapely and worn; the people were indifferent , philistine and showing no signs of worry; the atmosphere was bleak and menacing, devils were in the air; no one wanted to move, they were like stones, beauty was unknown and such was the peace; the rule of life was to be given birth , feed yourself with anything easily available, wait to find the ability to produce young, get married to whoever comes, have children, feed them, grow old and or by some accident or disease .pass away. After that you’d go to heaven or hell

7 I just couldn’t bear the torture of living like that. I was wondering how they could not mind what sort of house to live in, what kind of food to eat and what kind of people to coexist with. For me they were like invisible waves on air. I couldn’t even picture the faces of my fellow citizens or the sights which I’d seen on my .way school I hated drinking the foul water in the pipes or eating the food coming from unsacred lands. Obsession ran away with me, everyday after school I had to go to the shower and wash my body with a water which I disbelieved its cleanness. .It was terribly inhumane to see all the disgraceful things and not wish to perish I got the severe melancholy; there was a 24-7 frown, fear and despair on my face. It was so horrific that every night in bed I had to sob my heart out and not sleep, talk to God and to myself-not begging Him to take me back, not dreamingcomplaining to Him for his cruelness towards my feeble soul evincing my greatest astonishments of “if You are the perfect existence what are all these disgraces within your domain? Of why have You created such irresponsible ”?mortals to be entitled humans I talked to myself in terms like: “what a hell of a jail is it surrounding you? I wish you die and get rid of all these torture before dawn, provided that your body shouldn’t remain where it lies now, it must disappear as if it has never existed”, .blaming my ill fate and aggravating my tears By the way, one feature I forgot to mention which had never forgotten me to pester was the images of people, buildings, behaviours and any voices from the city in my mind; they teased me, they stabbed at my heart. I’d constantly attempted to prevent them from penetrating my head. It’d been a ruthless situation. At length, after some hours I, a 15 year old boy, had cried myself to .sleep There began a period of about 7 months that my tongue was at full rest. In home, I didn’t speak even one word during that time and if the issue was too urgent I would communicate it by gestures. I’d become like the girl in the movie “the quiet room” but several degrees deeper was my case. The reason was apprehension, anguish, fretfulness and generally severe repression. Mummy thought that I’d got the same illness as my brother, poor her, she have never had a happy day with her children. However, she was absolutely wrong and unable to understand me; .everyone was ordinary Now talk about loneliness, even my father insulted me instead of consoling; though, not only his, but everybody else’s head was too little to hold enough .sensation to understand me While walking on the side way to school, I’d have always kept my eyes on the ground, doing my utmost to lessen the pain caused by seeing people in the face. Besides, I’d have distracted my ears to not let them hear unsettling voices and sounds or rather not let those voices pervade. Yet, at that time I got mocked for

.my appearance by others That was when I noticed that I was not cut out for studying and everything related to paper, neither for living in that style. It wasn’t a new idea, its difference with before was that it’d turned out an extreme hatred due to further intellectual maturity and independence. I definitely hated school and paper work, it wasn’t .my thing at all In my 14 I just used to be drowsy in classes or draw horses on my books and less strongly hate school. In my 15, no matter where I was; all the time, .perpetually I had to fret and pine and nothing more. I was on another planet Then we had new types of fights in home with new opponents; one type –the oldest one- was between him and her, and new ones were between brother and mother, brother and father, me and mother, me and father and me and brother. It’d become a vulgar family. Everyday without exception, even n times a day and from n types there was ………. In home. Just imagine how bitter such a life could taste. Poor mummy, she had to grieve every day and night affected by the .incapaciating fact of having to live with 3 insane family members I wouldn’t say anything representing the odd and unreasonable manners of my father and brother; and I wouldn’t tell anything demonstrating my feeling toward them lest it should make me troubles when the story is broad cast. I’d only say that I and they have never been in tune with each other; from my side, there is .absolutely no love left Essential to tell you that from the first minute I shifted into the new phase everything had been clear to me; simply, action→ reaction. They were ordinary .people, too little to deal with my principles Back to new moods; since almost my 14, rudiments of a sophisticated belief consequences which are remarkable features of my personality kicked the path of evolution. Again this one is a little complicated to define, though less than the former. Thus I have to bring some examples to convey the idea. Excuse my .tongue for it’s not eloquent; none of these are the business of flesh Let’s start with milk; at that time we used to visit Rouma occasionally. Up to now I’ve told you about my paternal side, now it’s time for the maternal side which is quite different from the other side which is quite different from the other; though they are close relations. In Rouma, until my 13, my residence was often limited in grandpa’s home- the paternal- whose children have permanently moved to other cities and are 9 to 5ers. Gradually after my 13 I found my way to the house of the maternal grandpa who has 8 children 5 of whom have got the same job as my uncles but the other 3, who are now 29, 25, and 18 years old have stayed with their parents in village supporting the agriculture. They have still conserved .farming as their bread-giver In the same traditional idyllic method as in the past We are loosing track of the main story here, back to milk; I remember, even long before my remembering, m whenever i-my family- were off for Madenon, I mean

9 while departing and taking our leaves, their family- I mean my grandma- lavished a lot of milk from their cows and some other rural products like bread and fruits on us to be consumed in city. A lot of pure milk which had taken much labour and care to be obtained, much labour not by me the indolent consumer, by my .bounteous young uncles In my 14 I got to ruminate over that and then reproach myself for my sleazy career. As my conscience blamed me, I regretted and took on a new manner to .relieve my ill conscience and obey my instincts The story goes that in Rouma before then, I’d been too dreamy to lend my uncles a hand with their works or at least feel grateful to them or somehow express my thanks to them for their kindness. On the other side, I began to question me: look at the mess you are in, don’t you feel shameful of living like this? Gorge yourself, potter around and sleep you lazy bones! These, along with the displeasing facts .of urban life left a very deep influence on me I increased my staying times with uncles and got familiar with the issues connected with farming and country life. Like others, they have their big home in the residential area of the village and their gardens and farm lands here and there out of that area. Their greatest plot from which they earn major income and they go to and invest in the most is 10 minutes walking from their home. Through .out spring and summer they commute between there and there In summer they -I mean the uncles, often sleep by the farm to support it. In their garden they have a well with a pump on it which sends the water a hundred metres up onto a large pool. They also have their share of the public canals originating from the river. They don’t like to be sheltered when the starry sky does that, so they have set up a platform rather than a cottage for dining, living and sleeping. They grow from walnut to cherries to peaches to apples to tomato, .potato, cucumber, alfalfa and many other crops Their father is confined to bed with diabetes; thus the duty to manage the affairs has fallen on his sons and mainly the two youngest ones, the one who is 27 is a student. They often do tasks such as watering the trees, moving grass and alfalfa to be dyed into hay for winter, picking, sorting and packing crops to be sent to the .market place in neighbouring province, taking their cows to pasture, etc Depending on what time of year it is, there would be changes or rather adaptations from time to time. Most of the time the 2 young farmers are not alone there, they have many friends and relatives from around the village going to them nights and days to enjoy their friendship or help them or just hanging. They also have their brothers with their families and some other folks visiting them and having dinner parties. An inseparable part of their life is music; they also always keep a diary of their everyday life and feelings. Never the less, the method by which they do farming is just like their father’s with some slight changes and a .real sort of drudgery

The summer of that year-my 14-was the first summer until then that I spent the whole 3 months in Rouma away from family. By degrees, I’d become a fixed member of the toilers; bearing in mind that my feeling needful to Rouma wasn’t only a result of avoiding self indulgence, as I told, I had many troubles in Madenon which would compel me elude staying in there when I had the chance to get away. And as another major motive, I did that to sati8sfy my temperament which was thirsty for nature. You know, at least in village I had an absolutely more comfortable climate to fancy. There from them I learned how to handle a si9ckle, how to treat cows, how to shovel or remove a weir, how to wash my hands, how to defend myself against wolfs and snakes, how to overcome my fear in a night spent in spooky woods, and most of all, how to behave; I’ll tell you .about this one At first I seemed to be an apprentice; it was so enjoyable taking cows to meadows with my youngest uncle -Mammad- and meanwhile, playing with him the hole day through; only me, him, cows, river, hawks, fish, my arms, warbling, flowers and the scent. Hearing him singing, drawing pictures on the river-bank sands and what have you. It’d been a kind of forgetting anything about the city and all the tortures. However, I was too miserable to forget unpleasant things- so it was more like tackling many obsessions silently at the same time. Most of my time there I was with Mammad; our most routine job was mowing and weeding. It wasn’t easy to learn how to mow properly, “you will never learn it”, he used to .say. But at last I had learnt tanks to his patience During summer they have reaping almost once a week; on those days in early morning 3 of us prepared boxes and then started picking until afternoon, then we sorted the fruits within 2 hours; afterwards, at 12am or there about, Nader-the one who is 25 had them transported to the market which was 4 hours driving. Sometimes, again about once a week, they had to take their share of the canal which is 5 to 15 hours long half of the time at nights. Nader was in charge of the handed down job; alone in dark gardens, with a spade on shoulder and a lantern in hand, hearing the howls and screams and the coos. It’s been my honour to .assist him holding the lantern or taking the spade on several occasions so far Another interesting part of their job for me was ploughing; me, Nader, Mammad and 5 to 7 other guys-often friends- standing shoulder to shoulder with our spades; bantering, joking, laughing and labouring manfully- and of course, awaiting my grandma to bring us the meal. Then all sitting in a circle on the lawn .and enjoying our rural high-teas Every night youngsters who were nice friends came together in Naders’ territory all on the platform; chatting at the fire side, listening to the music, writing

11 whatever they like in his diary , etc for a couple of hours. Those were memorable nights. Sometimes I offered Nader going for fishing or rambling around the region and he would kindly agree and we 3 would spend the whole day experiencing new senses. They loved me and so did I; I’d become a tower of strength for them. Sometimes I had the chance to manage the affairs of the whole garden all .by myself in a day

Let me remark that the paramount role of my grandpas’ family in my life wasn’t instructing how to be a capable farmer, they have been my perfect moral teachers to an extent that their first role has been nothing compared to the second. They are unique; all of them are so sincere, so benevolent, so solicitous, and so moral. They are like movies. The most perfect member of them is Nader; there goes nothing wrong with him, he has been my best teacher-but not role model- and the one, I’m sure who is second to none in many virtues. Though, they themselves don’t know who they are as well as me. Even came to that just the last year. Their father is invalid, but they revere him like saints. I’ve never .seen them showing any dirty signs Let me tell a memory: it was a spring night 3 years ago, I was in their house asleep with other folks in separate rooms. It was close to sun rise that I was wakened vaguely by an earth quake. The whole brick house was trembling; I, mindless of everything rushed out of the room onto the balcony intending to go down the stairs and save my life. I’d just reached the first step-the top step- when a sight transfixed me; I saw 3 boys standing by their father holding on to his arms and looking at each other contemptuous of their safety. That was when I felt deeply ashamed and when many moral improvements were made inside me. Now, to cut a long story short, I’d say that Rouma with its exceptional ambience, for me has been a cradle to get lessons and evoke my various aspects of .humanity The preceding statements are a digest of my connections with Rouma and its influences on me in recent years through which I’ve been plumbing the depths of :repression in urban life Then I was 15, an unspeakably dejected lad of 15 waking up to undistinguished rather philosophical facts-facts, to me agitating and astonishing. Other features of my life at that age were these: I was mute like stones, my schedule was to go to school unwillingly, returning home, having and seeing arguments, lying on my special place in front of the TV and beside the radio-To do them justice, Iranian media at that time displayed many valuable programs plus professional commentaries, and immersing in the world of movies and documentaries. Films from all around the globe. Documentaries on ancient Rome and Egypt, wild life,

science, etc. there had been left no unwatched program containing even a little .shadow of other countries. By them I got a good boost in my overall knowledge I was still a good dreamer, it’s true that even with those hoprrific obsessions I never lost a shade of interest in my dreams. Apart from all that mentioned, I had the job for 5.5 days a in city to sketch swords, shaks, etc to be reduced to reality in weekend in Rouma. Urban life had put such a pressure on me that for a period i got to run away from school and leave for Rouma without lettibng parents know. The procedure was like this: it’s Thursday in noon, i’m at school, the bell goes and instead of going home i head for the terminal. Another way i contrived was this: i’ve returned from school and had had my bath, we’ve dined, it’s time for a nap, they’ve slept with the assumption that i’m so too, while i wasn’t realy , I just fake sleep.; when I’m sure that

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