3 - The House on Ardeshir Street

Summary

In this chapter I give an account of how I remember my childhood in the melodious echoes of songs my mother continues to sing in my mind, punctuating the crucial decades of the 1950s and 1960s, or 1330s and 1340s, to be more precise on our own calendar, in conjunction with historic events that stormed my homeland during this fateful time and then by extension much deeper and longer into history, culture, context – into religion, art, poetry, philosophy, and mysticism. I remember and I forget and I write and I wonder. I do all of these as an adult looking back. I detail how I wrote this book in the early hours of the morning, when most of the world around me was fast asleep, and as the sun rises and the room becomes bright, only the reflections of those memories linger about me. In the darkness of my room and the brightness of the laptop screen on which I wrote, I was reassured of a window that has opened into the womb into which I was conceived.