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Sanaz Sohrabi

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   He once told me he had lost the negatives.  One day before I leave, he took some photos of me, in the central part of Tehran, Meydoon Vali-Asr, Enghelab. It was a s strange day, I had so many mixed feelings; excitement, fear, feeling an absence.  He found the negatives. I am holding my breath while looking at them. This is not me. I left me that day on that grey bench. As I am writing, I remember my bus ride on the way back home.  Looking out the window, passing by the sad old  trees of Vali-Asr, looking at their reflection on the window, the uncertainties, the grief.  Those trees are far and gone, this poetic image is only an imagination.  Photo by Ardalan Zandyavari

 

He once told me he had lost the negatives.  One day before I leave, he took some photos of me, in the central part of Tehran, Meydoon Vali-Asr, Enghelab. It was a s strange day, I had so many mixed feelings; excitement, fear, feeling an absence.

He found the negatives. I am holding my breath while looking at them. This is not me. I left me that day on that grey bench. As I am writing, I remember my bus ride on the way back home.  Looking out the window, passing by the sad old  trees of Vali-Asr, looking at their reflection on the window, the uncertainties, the grief.

Those trees are far and gone, this poetic image is only an imagination.

Photo by Ardalan Zandyavari

July 19, 2014
Tags Ardalan Zandyavari
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هر چیزی که در جستنِ آنی، آنی