Green Apple

In Search of Life

2012-02-19T15:02:00.001-04:00

Episode xx: In search of life,

"We have evolved, like everything else, and we are constantly evolving. The force of selection is still working on us, but much slower than forces of our social life. Now do you want to be part of this constantly evolving, constantly changing life?" The man said. He looked at the girl sitting on the side of the room. She was beautiful. She had yellow hair.
Silence filled the room. No one said anything, no one even moved. The man continued, "Am I that boring? the answer is that we don't have a choice. Like it or not we will all contribute to the evolution of our species. Some of you might have a few children, contributing to the gene pool. Even our so called altruistic behaviour is part of our selection force. Self sacrificial genes cannot be favoured, but self sacrificial individuals are favoured in most societies. If you are not contributing to the gene pool, or you are not helping anyone, why do you live? Why don't you kill yourself?"
Silence was still there. No one moved. The man looked at his watch and said, "Thank you all for listening. I hope you found this intellectually satisfying. If you have any questions I'll be around for a few minutes."
Everyone started to leave. Three students came to the man, a white girl with red hair, tall, and skinny, a half black, very muscular boy, and the blond girl. The first one was the red head girl, she asked, "I have a question what do mean by self sacrificial individuals are favoured, but self sacrificial gene cannot be favoured."
The man said with a smile, "That's the notion of selfish gene. The basic natural selection is maximizing survivability and reproduction. The altruistic behaviours were first seen as an unexplainable phenomena. But as soon as we realized genes were involved we saw that individuals who sacrifice themselves for the sake of their genes are common. "I would happily give my life for 2 siblings, 4 grandchildren, or 8 cousins". It's a quote from a biologist, Haldane. Its a notion of kin selection. It basically means we will favour our genes, but not our selves."
The male student was next, with a smirk on his face he said, "So are you suggesting we are selfish beasts and we are not created by God?"
The man heard this questions so many times, so he just recited his usual answer, "I am just teaching you what is there in the scientific community, it has nothing to do with my beliefs. And my beliefs are my own. I would appreciate if you hurry up, there are still people waiting."
The last was the girl. She smiled, a warm smile. She said, "I'm glad you are alive. You scared me back there. You haven't changed."
The man said, "No dear, I have changed. But as we discussed before I am low on Serotonin. No matter what happens I will have the same attitude."
"I'm sorry to hear that, old friend." Those were the girl's last words.

Comment

2012-02-17T21:53:00.000-04:00

Anonymous said...

خشم رو اون موقع میشه درک کرد که میبینی کشورت رو عقب مانده فرض میکنن
خشم رو اون موقع میشه درک کرد که
میفهمی مردم بازیچه ی اند
خشم رو اون موقع حس میکنی که میبینی مشتی خائن واکثریتی نادون سرمایه های کشور رو به باد میدن
اما باز با این وجود بر میگردی و پیش خودت میگی راه چاره ای هم هست؟

You know last night I was a at dinner party with a friend and some people I didn't know. There were a few iranians there, so as usual we started to talk about politics. Obviously when we were talking about Iran I didn't say a word about my beliefs, just reciting facts. What was interesting was the ideas of the girl sitting beside me. She kept saying the love for iran is in your blood, you didn't choose it but its you, you want to talk about it, you want to protect it. And the whole time I wondering about two things, first how can I get more wine, and second would she shut up! I'm scared these days. Of the inevitability of the war, of economical situation of my family and I. But more than anything else I'm scared because I don't really care what happens to them, or Iran for that matter. I'm scared of myself! These are just some people, some organism, only my experiences with them distinguishes their lives from the chicken I had for lunch. So I'm not looking for a solution for them, I'm looking for a solution for me! How can I help others, not how can I help Iran, or my family. To be honest I already feel they are gone!

Sorry, this does sound cold!

Good Luck!...

یک بار دیگر

2011-10-29T02:10:00.000-03:00

شاید بشود باری دیگر به زیبایی گذشته با این کلمات بازی کنم. می دانم که امروز آن روز نیست. اما من به یاد ندارم چه طور می نوشتم. شاید زیبا بود. امروز سری به گذشته زدم، مقاله، دل نوشته، و عکسهایتان را دیدم. می دانی دلم برای تو تنگ شده. اما می دانی هیچ وقت نمی خواهم به کشورت بازگردم. همه آن گونه از ایران سخن می گویند که انگار برای او زندگی می کنند. می دانی از نظر من کشورت چیزی جز یک قرار داد از پیش تعیین شده نیست و من و تو با شانس در آن به وجود آمدیم؟ به چه افتخار می کنی؟ از من بشنو دلبر من، گذشته چیزی برای تو ندارد. در تمام عکسها و فیلم هایمان هیچ از خودم نیافتم. من نبودم! هیچ جای آن. چرا؟

این زبان پارسی را در پس ذهنم به خاک خوردن محکوم کردم. هر چه از آن می دانستم فراموش کردم. اما تنها حسی که دارم عذاب وجدان است که این زمان را بجای خواندن بیو کمیستری به نوشتن این نوشته می گذارم. به راستی زندگی عجیب است.

باشد روزی بیاید که تو این را بخوانی و به جای اینکه به وطن فروشی من فکر کنی، دیدگاه من را بفهمی، خشم مرا درک کنی. مرا به چیزی که وجود ندارد محکوم نکن!

دوستتان دارم دوستان قدیمی.

آبتین

Episode #10: In Search of Someone, Anyone!

2011-09-07T01:15:00.001-03:00

Episode #10:
In Search of Someone, Anyone!
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-"Hey... Look over here ... Look I'm here ... Can't you hear me? Look at me ... please look at me."
-"I've been looking for you ... I'm here ... Look at me"
-"Over here"
-"Hey"
All these sounds were just a buzz in her ear. She whispered,"I can't see anyone ... I'm alone ... Please someone ... Anyone"
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Episode #11:
In Search of Empathy

Episode #9: In Search of Patience

2011-09-01T04:37:00.001-03:00

Episode #9:

In Search of Patience:

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The burning sun made the thirst harder to endure. She ran out of water a few hours ago. The thirst was killing her. She felt dizzy and her eyes could not see well. She said to herself, "keep walking, keep walking. I can't die here." She kept walking through the dessert, for hours, but she reached nowhere. She was lost, without any sense of time. Her eye's started to darken, and she fell.

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"shhhh, just wait here and don't move." Wrath said to Hope. They were in the forest, hiding behind a tree.

"Why are we here?" Hope asked while clinging onto Wrath's hand.

"We are going to see something extraordinary. But only if you stay quiet. If you move you would put both of us in danger." Wrath said and went to the other side of the open area behind the tree. He had a gun with him.

While each of them were hiding behind a tree a bear came out with her little cub. Out of surprise the girl moved and made a sound. The female bear roared and charged toward the girl but before going far a bullet went through her head and she fell right before the girl. The scared bear cub ran to the mother and cling to its corpse. Wrath came out of his hideout while shouting,"What the hell was that? What gave you the idea to…" but with the glimpse of the girl he lost all his rage. Hope was immobilized, her eyes were as big as a cup. She could not even cry. The boy sat beside Hope and held her tightly. After a few minutes her ice melted. She sightly moved and the tears started to race down her cheek. Wrath quietly whispered,"patience my love, patience."

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"Hey miss, can you hear me? Try to open your eyes". Hope tried to open her eyes but she could not!

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"Come on, let me read it." Hope was trying to have a glimpse of the paper which the old man was holding. The old man hold the paper back and said, "no, child. It's too early. You wouldn't understand it."

"Master please, just let me have a look. I always wished to read your writings. I heard you are great." Hope begged the old master.

"And what would you learn from it if I show it to you?" The old man eyes were putting weights on the girl and brought her down to her knees.

"But master if I don't read it I won't learn anything. Please let me" The girl pleaded.

"There is something what you can learn. Contain your excitement for a year. On this day a year from now I would let you to read this story. Patience is the key to achieve anything." The master added,"Also contain the same enthusiasm." He left the room with a smile.

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"Water… water"

"Here, just drink slowly. Please try not to move. Just rest."

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"It has been a year now. I have waited a whole year. I thought about it every night. I scratched 364 lines on a tree. I'm dying to read it." The girl said with joy. The old man was happy to see the girl bursting apart out of excitement. Her joyfulness in the past year kept the house alive.

The old man handed her the paper. The moment she was unfolding the paper every muscle in her face was flexed. But then they all dropped, she looked up with dead eyes. The Old man was still smiling. Hope said,"I think you gave me the wrong paper. There is only one word in it and it's wisdom. I thought I'm going to read you writing."

"Well this is my writing. And yes, life is cruel. You waited all this time for nothing. You gain nothing. There is no meaning, no reward, no gratitude. Nothing for this long wait and the energy you wasted on waiting for this. You fooled yourself. Sometimes no matter how long you wait, there is simply nothing there to gain." The old man took back the paper and teared it apart in front of the girl. The old man walked away and the girl did not move.

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Episode#10:

In Search of someone, Anyone!

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Episode#8: In Search of Something Meaningful, Anything

2011-08-24T18:14:00.002-03:00

Episode#8:

In Search of Something Meaningful, Anything:

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"It was a week ago. I remembers it as if it is happening right before my eyes. I do not know how this week passed. There is no flow of time for me, it is always night. I am not crying, I am not mourning. There is nothing to mourn about. The men who brought Wrath with them buried him and his father beside their cottage. I'm alone now. More alone than I ever was. After the men left I burned the house. I wanted to be free from the pain. It's enough. I had enough. I'm not afraid of anything. There is nothing worth living for. There never was."

She was walking along the road with these thoughts. Almost like a zombie with no expression on her face. In the past few days she had traveled so much. There was nothing around her, no trees, no water, just earth, filled with shit. Vultures were shading her way. As she was walking in the distance she saw a ruin and thought it would be a good place to spend the night. When she approached the old ruin she saw a young shepherd with couple of goats around him. The shepherd smiled when he got a glimpse of the girl and said,"Oh thank you my Lord."

With a coldness the girl replied,"If you come near me I will kill you."

The shepherd brought his hands forward as a sign of apology and said,"I apologize if you felt this way. I'm just a simple shepherd and right before you appear I asked my God for someone to talk to. You know I love my Goats but they can't respond to me. All they want is food. But there you are. God had send her most beautiful women on earth to keep my company. I could not be happier."

The girl cracked up and said,"Did you just called me beautiful? I don't even know how do I look like. Thanks."

The girl sat down in front of the shepherd. They look into each other eyes trying to read each others past. The girl finally broke the silent and asked, "do you really believe in God?"

The shepherd said, "of course I do. If I don't believe in God how can I live? I wouldn't know what to do. It's my purpose, it's my destiny, it's the truth, it's my hope, my fear, my strength."

"But what if there is no god, no heaven, no hell, no rewards, no punishments? Wouldn't your life become meaningless?"

The shepherd became silent. And then his eyes become wider and wider. He jumped from his sit and screamed at the girl, "you must be the devil, I felt your beauty wasn't natural. Get away from me." He ran away and left his goats with the girl.

The girl could not believe what just happened. Now she understood why her master lived in a forest, away from the so called civilized world.

"All life is meaningless. As meaningless as the life of these goats, insignificant, unfair, and filthy. There is nothing in this world worth living for … but there was something … Him! But he is gone now. All his life he tried to teach me I don't need him … but I do need him … no no no … he said I should find it in myself … he always knew this would happen … I don't know, I don't care. He is gone … STOP." She said it all out loud, and in the end the goats replied to her with a plain look. She could already feel the tears racing down her cheeks.

She looked at the stars and said, "there must be something … or nothing!"

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Episode#9: In Search of Patience

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Episode #7: In Search of Strength

2011-08-19T00:37:00.002-03:00

Episode #7:

In Search of Strength:

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"Wait, he died just like that?" The young boy asked.

The girl nodded and said, "he did, and his father as well, just a few hours later."

There was very long silence between them, they could only hear the wind as it was going between the trees. The young boy's brown eyes were flooded with emotions. He was looking at the girl as if she was a goddess, maybe Venus. But the girl was not there. She was on a voyage deep in her memories of Wrath and his father, and her once loved family. They were gone now, she was on her own. Many years had passed since that night. She was not a little girl anymore. She started to learn the art of living, she became a strong women.

The young boy was still confused. "Why did your master die? Did he say he was not afraid to lose the boy?" the boy asked.

"And this was his final mistake, or maybe a lesson he wanted to teach me," Hope said with a smile. She continued, "he lost his strength and he couldn't live with out it. Me on the other hand, I lost my fear. I do not fear death but I'm not going to kill myself. The same feeling kept Wrath alive." Deep down she knew she was lying but the boy trusted her.

"So what gives you strength?" Asked the boy, a pen in hand.

Hope stood up and prepared to lecture the boy about the world, and tell him of the stories she heard along the road. She naively thought she could become a master herself. She held her breath for a moment, to steady her speech, and said: "Fear and strength are connected. But we react differently to them. If you categorize something as your fear, you will try to avoid it. You try to protect. It makes you stronger, and at the same moment that you feel strong, you are in your weakest condition. If what you fear most happens in that moment, you will break." Hope closed her eyes to concentrate, to draw her attention away from the memories of that night. She continued, "Now consider this scenario; something gives you strength, it is everything you have. You don't even think about losing it because there is no life after losing it. There is no breaking. There is just nothing after it. That's what happened to my old master. It's dangerous to put your strength in something so vulnerable. Put your strength in something that you cannot easily lose."

The boy asked, "but you didn't answer my question. What gives you strength?"

"In my life I've met many people, I asked this question over and over. To my surprise many people are similar to the old man, they drew power from their family. They live for their loved ones. Some naive humanist would suggest the morality and goodness of human nature or something as meaningless as god. However, we all know these ideas are as rotten as this world itself. Before all of these experiences I would have said knowledge gave me strength. I thought it was a very good one since you can't lose it, but of course I was very young and naive. My memories are flooded with mistakes. The only other answer I consider reasonable, but I cannot accept, is beauty. I can't believe in it. It's beyond me. What gives me strength? It wouldn't be fun if I just told you, would it?" And the girl walked away from the boy with a pen.

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Episode#8: In Search of Something Meaningful. Anything

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P.S Credits to a friend who helped me in my search for strength.

Episode #6: In Search of Fear

2011-08-04T01:41:00.002-03:00

Episode#6:

In Search of Fear:

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It was a dark night in the forest. The only light was coming from the small cottage beside the trail. The old man was sitting on his chair. His eyes were following the shadow of the girl pacing around the room. Her shadow was dancing with her, like a lover. She finally stopped and asked the old man,”Why did he have to go this late? We know it’s not safe.”

The old man smiled and asked,”Why are you so worried?”

“Why? Because I care about him. What if something happens to him?” The girl said that while a small tear coming down her cheek.

The old man stood up and came to the girl. He whispered, ”What are you afraid of?”

Their eyes were fixed on each other. The girls eyes were a burning sea, ready to flood down her face. The girl closed her eyes and asked, “What should I be afraid of? What are you afraid of?”

“You are too young. I’m not afraid of anything. I learned the flow of life. Everything will go in the way it must.”

“You are not even afraid of losing the people you love? I can’t even think about the day that he wouldn’t be here”

“He is my strength, not my weakness.”

The girl was not crying anymore. She was surprised. The old man was so strong. Wrath always talks about him as if he is a ignorant old fool who wasted his life; while she sees him as a strong and wise master.

The old man put his hand on the girls shoulder and said, “Do you want to know what Wrath is afraid of? He told me once, after we found you.”

The girl sat down on the chair and said, “please tell me!”

“He said he is afraid to lose ...”

“Lose me?” The girl interrupted the old man.

“No, silly girl. How can he lose something he doesn’t have? He cares about you, but he is referring to his condition. His state of being. He is afraid of failure.”

“I don’t understand. He has control over himself. He can’t just change by accident.”

“There are triggers that might make him disappear.”

As the man was telling his story, somebody knocked on the door. The girl ran to the door and opened it. The old man closed his eyes in comfort, but right after he heard the girl screams; he turned around and saw two men holding a body. It was Wrath. One of the men in the doorway said, ”we found him on the road. He only said something about the cottage and the bear cub. He passed out right after. Please we have to help him.”

The old man was silent. He put his hand on his chest, trying to rip off his heart and collapsed on the ground.

The girl could not scream anymore. Her face was completely wet. She grabbed the boys face. It was cold, very very cold. He was gone.

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Episode#7: In Search of Strength

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Episode #5:In Search of Hope

2011-07-20T18:07:00.001-03:00

Episode #5
In Search of Hope
-----------------------

18 month ago:

The boy was sitting in a chair in front of his father. they looked exactly the same as if there was a mirror in front of them with the ability to go beyond the limits of time. Even their facial expressions were similar, they were both sad, melancholic, ready to cry, defeated.

The fire and the shadows were dancing in the room. The reflection in the boy’s eyes made his face even darker. With his grim voice the boy said,”What do you want father?”

“My Wrath, look at yourself. My son you have become the very thing you wanted to destroy. You are a healer! Why do you wish to change it?”

“You have no idea old man. I have destroyed many. I never helped anyone, I only brought more pain and suffering for them.”

“I know you never succeeded, but you tried. It’s not your fault.”

“I will not let go of my responsibilities. I did let them die. They asked for my help and I couldn’t help them. It’s irrelevant how they ended it. You know this very well father. Please stop trying to undo it. I needed help long ago and you were to busy searching for nothing and now you have reached the nothingness. So let go of me.” The boy yelled his last words and stormed out of the room and left the old man to be devoured in the shadows.

A drop of tear fell on the desk and the old man whispered to himself, “he needs hope. I need hope!”

The boy ran outside to the forest. He remembered 2 month ago when she was still alive. He was happy, naive. He remembered the time when he first saw her. She was beautiful, but sad. He tried to help her. He loved her. But then no matter how hard he tried he failed. She was not getting better. On the last day, she looked very happy. He thought he finally made progress. On that day the girl gave him a letter before leaving him. He opened the letter.

My dear Wrath,

The day I met you, you told me everything would be better. I believed in you and I really tried . But this pain, this emptiness would not leave me alone. I can see that I make you sad. I can’t fight this anymore. I want to go. I thought if I get you and be with you I will be fine, but you are too good for me. I’m nothing. I can’t bear the pain that you can be with someone better and happier but you stuck with me, with my misery. My dear Wrath please forgive me for wanting you for myself. You are free now. Go and find love, like I did with you. Today I will end this. I’m sad that I can’t be with you but I know you will be happy.

I love you.

Wrath read the letter again and again after that day. He could not believe what he was reading. It was his fault. If only he was more sincere.

With these thoughts he grabbed his gun and started to shoot at any animal which came to his sight. Until he ran out of bullets. When he came out of the forest the old man had the first aid supplies in his hands and asked,”how many did you killed?”

“Not enough.” Wrath grabbed the first aid supplies from the old man and went back in the forest to treat the wounds he caused. It was his addiction now. Only after killing and healing animals could he endure this pain, this wrath.

12 month ago,

After 8 month, the boy stopped killing healthy animals. He would only kill those who were injured. He came out to the field. Grass everywhere. It was hard to shoot a rabbit here. The wind was strong and the grass were moving so it was hard to spot anything between the grass. The wind made him turn his face toward the hill. On that hill he saw something. It was a girl with her left hand stretched in front of her. He knew this gesture. He imagined it so many times. His skin turned pale, it was about to happen. He ran toward the hill...

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Episode#6

In Search of Fear

Episode #4: In Search Of Wisdom

2011-07-13T01:53:00.001-03:00

Episode #4
In Search Of Wisdom

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"HOW DO YOU LOOK FOR SOMETHING THAT IS NOT THERE?"
The old man yelled. The frightened girl slowly left the room.

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Episode #5
In Search Of Hope

Episode #3 In Search of Destiny

2011-06-24T02:23:00.001-03:00

Episode #3

In Search of Destiny

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The young couple were walking along the forest road near their residence. The girl was a few step behind and she kept starring at the boy's hand, trying to hold it with her lovely stare. The boy was whispering a song. Suddenly the girl tripped over a rock. The boy stopped the girl from falling and said,"you should pay more attention to your way instead of me." He winked at he girl and resumed his way. The girl turned pink, but right after other emotion started to dominate. The girl asked with fear,"why don't you give me an answer?"

"I am answering."

"Then tell me, do you love me?"

"Hope, please!" The boy stopped and looked at Hope."

"This is what I mean Wrath, you never answer me. You always run away from this conversation. Even your father admitted we share a bond; our destiny is linked."

"You trust that old man way too much."

"What?"The girl was stunned once again.

"I know you think he is god, but there is no god. I don't share the same views."

"What do you mean? He is your master as well. You told me this."

"Look Hope. I don't just inject what ever he teaches. I digest it. There is main difference between me and my father. He believes in fate. He thinks everything is meant to be. I don't agree with him."

The girl was surprised. She always thought the boy was the younger and more attractive version of his father. She thought how could the boy deceive her so long. She replied,"what do you believe in?"

"It wouldn't be fun if I just tell you. I'm not your teacher so I don't have to answer that. Hey lets just forget about this. We can have a lot of fun together before that old wreck arrives"

"This isn't over"

"Of course not, my love"

The girl turned pink again. she quietly asked,"Wrath, what is destiny?"

"It's you!"

They continued their way deeper inside the forest. They were close to the spot. The place where they share their dreams. The boy looked back at her and said with a smile, "we are almost there. Wanna race?" And without waiting for an answer the boy started to run. The girl ran after him. They reached the cliff. It was a stunning view. The blue sky above, a lake below with trees surrounding everything. A perfect place to jump, to finish it all, to let go. The girl used to think like this before. But now it's different. Now this place was a place to love, to be with someone she loves. The boy went on the edge of the cliff and turned around. He asked,"Should I jump, my hope?"

"Quit playing around please. You know I hate this game."

"But what if I jump now? What will happen to our precious destiny my father described? Would it end?"

"STOP! COME HERE RIGHT NOW." She screamed with anger. The boy put his hands up as if it wasn't his fault. As soon as the boy got far away from the cliff the girl jumped in his arms. She was crying. As soon as the boy saw her tears his smile vanished. He took a step back and said,"NO!"

The girl started to cry harder but after a few seconds we gained her control and responded,"I don't know what will happen to our destiny, or I if you jump. I don't know what destiny is. But I don't care. I love you wrath. And I can't see you hurting yourself."

"I knew it was too early for this lesson. Indeed I'm not my father" The boy said while turning away from the girl. He added,"One day you will regret these tears. One day you will learn to shape your destiny with your hands without relying on other people."

"You are hopeless!" The girl shouted while running back in the forest.

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Episode #4

In Search of Wisdom

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Episode #2 In search of Truth

2011-06-09T23:16:00.000-03:00

Episode #2

In search of Truth

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"Why did you decide to be my apprentice?" The old man said.
"To learn, my master," he girl pleaded.
The fire and the shadows danced in the room scared the girl, but the young boy was entertained. Seeing his father teaching seemed to bring back good memories. On his chair in the corner of the room, he was watching his father siting behind his desk and the girl siting on the same spot where he used to sit when he was younger, in front of his father.
"Really, but why?" The old man replied.
"I have told you the story, when I first met your son I was in a crisis. Due to the pain I tried to commit suicide. It happened 3 times. On my third attempt your son found me. He showed me the way of reasoning, the wisdom to endure life. After that I became obsessed with the idea of learning; and I found the best teacher, " the girl replied.
"Is it true my son?" the old man asked his son.
"Absolutely not, father."
The girl was stunned. The old man turned to the girl and said,"Describe to me the day that you saw my son. And my son you will interrupt when ever you did not agree. There are only a few ways to find out the truth."
"As you wish master."
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One year ago:
The wind was strong as it moved through the hair's of the young girl. The girl closed her eyes, she took a breath and brought her left wrist forward. She opened her eyes and took her last glimpse at the hilltops. The sky was blue but dark with white stains on it; it looked like a painting by a goth painter with no sense of beauty. The landscape was empty, no trees, no living creatures, only grass. Green grass, more like a little army of snakes moving their tails. It looked like childish painting by a depressed kid that probably has autism. There was nothing in this picture worth looking at, rather living for it. With her eyes closed she swung her right hand with the blade on her left wrist. The blood splashed out of her hand and she slowly fell. As she was falling something or someone stopped her. But she had already passed out.
She tried to open her eyes, but she was too weak. She tried to say something but the only sound she could make was a murmur. She thought she probably failed again; she is so weak she can't even kill herself. But then she felt something, something warm beside her, something was holding her wrist. She made another sound and moved her neck in the position of the thing. The boy had bandaged the girl's wrist and was putting pressure on it. He realized the girl was conscious and said,"Don't worry. I stopped the bleeding. Fortunately you didn't cut it very deep. I was sitting on the side of the hill and I saw you. What were you thinking? Don't you see this beautiful world? Don't you see if you would have died I could never save a life. You changed my life today. Thank you."
----------------
The old man looked at the young couple. He smiled and said,"Now I have learned the truth. Thank you my children."
The girl seemed surprise, and asked:"But I didn't say the reason, the purpose. How did you learn the truth from our story."
The old man replied,"It's very soon for you to understand this my child, but truth does not exist, and it has nothing to do with purpose. It's a view, a perspective. Completely subjective and imaginary. There is no truth. What I learned from your story is a bond you two created. A spark that initiated everything. Perhaps you will find your destiny connected to this bond as well."
----------------

Episode #3

In search of Destiny

----------------

Episode #1 In search of Purpose

2011-06-03T11:33:00.005-03:00

Episode#1

In search of Purpose
------------------------------

He went to the same spot again, as if he was looking for something he had missed in his last attempt.
After digging in the area for a bit, he finally stood up; smiled at his partner and said, "Finally something to search for. I was getting tried of finding all I want without an effort. After all there would be no purpose to it. Isn't it right my child?"
The young women smiled and replied:"Does the world have a purpose, she inquired." She started to hop around.
"I told you to avoid memorizing something you don't understand. These words have a meaning far beyond whats on the surface? Do you think you can spit them out with disgrace? Be ashamed of yourself young lady."
"I'm sorry Master. I just heard your music, and I remembered it."
The man turned away from the girl and softly replied, "perhaps I should lower the volume next time."
A young man with long hair approached from behind, he reached the girl and put his hands of her shoulders. The girl looked into the boys brown eyes and smiled. With the courage he gained, the boy said:"Maybe you should tell her what it means, Father"
The old man picked up a stone and said:"What is this stone made of, son?"
"More stones father"
"And what is the purpose of them"
"To become stronger. Or is it? They might not have a purpose"
"Precisely. Do you understand now? My young apprentice"
"Yes master" The girl responded; and the old man disappeared in the ruins.
The boy smiled at the girl and asked:" What are you looking for?"
The girl turned around and held the boy in her arms. With a sweet voice she whispered:"I don't know yet. Everything, and Nothing. Without you here, I would have been lost."
The boy stepped back. The cold impression on the boys face brought sadness to the girls eyes, but she hid it. The boy responded in a deep voice:"Never let anyone light your path. No one has enough fuel for it. You are alone in this world"
"BUT WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THIS WORLD?" The girl cried out with pain.
"Does the world have a purpose, she inquired" The old man said with a sad smile.

------------------------------

Episode #2
In Search of Truth

------------------------------

Knowledge?

2011-04-25T15:19:00.001-03:00

What does having knowledge mean? How should I understand I know something? Is it only observable when I apply that knowledge? Is it the application that shows the extend of someone's knowledge? What kind of application? I’m lost in the point that I can’t understand the true nature and this ability. What does it do when we learn facts? I know so many psychological, sociological, biological, chemical, etc. theories. But I don’t know if any of them will help mere survival.

This is a rather odd topic to be asked by a student, student who dedicated his life to gain perfect marks. I hate to say it, but that is my goal in life. I want to have good grades, I need to have good grades. I like studying but thats not my reason.

I can’t believe that less than couple of years ago I devalued academic success, but now it’s all I want!!!!!!

Unfortunately it is the only way to become what I like to be!

Good luck!...

political

2011-02-16T22:28:00.000-04:00

I never wanted to write about politics. I wanted to be free from corruption, from any sides, from a country, from a people, from a belief, from a strategy, from law, from gods, from evils. All this boundaries and attachment are linked with politic. The only attachment that is not involved is love! And of course I will not focus on that.

World is an interesting place these days. Some people are starting to realize they are people.

I’m scared to say anything. I’m scared to take sides. My only clue is science. With that I conclude.

Congratulation my dear free people, Egyptian, Tunisian, I hope you won’t lose it like some other people did. And Congratulation to those who are trying to be free, Bahrainis, Iranians. I hope/wish you guys would win as well, but winning is not enough, Of course Iranians know about this.

Good luck...

P.S: College doen't give you much time for yourself!!!! Love you greens ;)

Star

2011-01-16T15:56:00.002-04:00

A life history of an organism is filled with adaptive reactions and decisions. By looking at an organism we realize life is a challenge. And with this short introduction we can conclude that humans are in the same challenge. As I was wondering in the shadows of my thoughts, I found a star in that cloudy night. But I wonder should I reveal it here? NO!

Good Luck!

A song by La Dispute, this is what we call good music!

“1978 - San Diego:

I'd just come out the other side of a relationship that blew up

I was angry, and disillusioned, and ultimately self-destructive.

I'd lost everything I believed in

I was as utterly, completely alone as I've ever been.

So I began going on walks.

I started taking late-night walks around the San Diego suburb I was living in at the time.

I'd start walking early evening, and come back close to midnight, sometimes later

Walking and thinking and chewing over what had gone wrong with my life.

One night, at Fourth and E Streets, I got mugged and beaten by a street gang

Sent me to the hospital with serious intimations of mortality.

When the ER techs asked what my religion was, I refused to answer.

I made my private peace with the universe,

Content with whatever was going to happen, live or die.

Then something happened.

I got angry.

I got angry because I still had stories to tell.

So I fought back.

It took two months to fully recover.

But two things came out of that incident.

First: I have no fear of death. None whatsoever.

Second: As soon as I was well enough, I started walking again.

Sometimes until 3 or 4 in the morning,

Through parts of town that made even street people nervous.

When people asked what I was doing out there that late at night,

the only answer I could give was, "I'm looking for something."

So I kept walking through some of the most dangerous parts of San Diego,

before it got cleaned up,

When it was still home to hookers and drunks and gangs

Finally, one afternoon, I came to the same areas I walked through at night

And I was struck by the dichotomy between that corner at night,

And the very same corner during the day.

In the daylight, there were businessmen and kids and clerks,

Eager to get home to dinner and TV and family.

Then, later, came the night shift - the lost people

emerging from shadows and beds of pain to walk the same streets

In search of fixes, money, and bars,

Gradually fading away with the dawn.

Two totally different worlds,

Sharing nothing but longitude and latitude.

There was the nation in the day, and the nation at night,

Existing side by side but each fleeing the other;

A daylight nation and a midnight nation.

I saw a country bifurcated by more than just the presence and absence of light,

But by lives cast aside and lost and uncared for;

The walked away and the thrown-away on one side, and on the other,

Those who pretended not to see them, because not seeing is easier.

And I saw someone forced to walk both sides of the metaphor,

To learn that the greatest cruelty is our casual blindness to the despair of others,

That there but for the grace of whatever god you subscribe to goes any of us.

And finally, I realized that I had found what I was looking for,

Without ever being quite sure what it was.

I found a story that would make my own life make sense again.

This story.

I still take long walks

And I still stop and talk to the people who stand at the corner

And wait for something to happen to them,

Who wait for money to fall into a hat or a cup,

Who wait for someone to recognize their pain.

Because the line between the midnight nation

And the place where I sit right now,

Writing these words, is thin and ephemeral and can be crossed in an instant.

Because the road to the midnight nation can be erased only through compassion.

I found my story, this story, on a hazy afternoon in 1978.

Now it's yours.

The keys to the midnight nation are in your hands.

What you do with them is up to you.

J. Michael Straczynski.

Sherman Oaks, CA

July 21st, 2002.”

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmania.com/eight_lyrics_la_dispute.html

All about La Dispute: http://www.musictory.com/music/La+Dispute

Hunter

2010-10-22T22:05:00.004-03:00

I haven't wrote anything worth reading in a long time (if ever) So although I don't have time but I think I need to write something. It's kind of a BirthDay gift for myself. :)

***

“Relax, you can do it!” I kept repeating that in my head, with every step I moved toward her. There she was standing beside a tree. She didn’t sense me. There she was, sampling the plants, taking a bite of a little bush. My little Deer, My prize, My love, If only I could get you. For many days I’ve been wondering around looking for you. But you ran away every time. I won’t let it happen again. This is my life is all about. This is my reason; this is my divine goal; God have created me for this single day. I was creeping closer like a snake, and as hungry as a Wolf. I hope my heart beat won’t give me away, it was rising with every step. I pointed my gun at you. Everything was ready for this sacred moment. I could feel the divinity of my work. The divine pleasure of killing you. I could see the truth, but you refuse to believe it. So I have no choice but to convince you with any means necessary, You need to come to the light. A place where darkness would fall. I don’t believe I am better than you, I believe you are lost. Lost in the shadows forever and death might be the only answer for you. With these feelings I pulled the trigger. In the very last moment you tried to seduce me with your beautiful eyes, but it was too late. Now I could only see blood splashing out of your neck. And you died.

“It’s done!” I said, but not with joy. I should be happy, I should be proud. I should be jumping in thrill; I should be praying the God for completing his mission. There was it, my key to go to heaven, My prize, My award, My dead little Deer. But something was wrong! Something I never felt before. My soul was burning. I couldn’t understand why. I went closer and stand above the dead deer. Her beautiful body was in blood; her eyes were dead. Laying on the ground, lifeless. The clerics of our tribe always told me about this day. They said after you killed your deer, you would feel the divine pleasure of standing beside the God. But I couldn’t feel that. My soul was burning. I closed my eyes and these images attacked me; I saw someone shooting at me and I fell; but somehow I could still see whats going on. He killed my wife, my son, my daughter, my dog; He burned down my house. After that I saw the shooter. It was me, I was the shooter. I opened my eyes; I understand it now. All these years of doubt. My teachers told me it was my lack of faith, That I needed to be closer to God, and it can only happen if I kill her. But now that she is dead; I understand. My eyes are filled with tears; My heart is broken. All these years I spend my life trying to kill the only thing that matters in my life. They told me, I would suffer for eternity if I refuse to do God’s will, but now I am suffering for the rest of my life. They told me, my weapon is sacred, that every bullet is a blessing, and by killing these beautiful devils I would gain honor. They were lying; or perhaps they are just blind.

And there she was, dead. Soon her body will decompose and join the planet. Soon her children would be eaten by wolfs or other predators. And Soon everything would be back to normal in this forest, except me. I didn’t do anything that would affect this place, this world. I only shot myself. I burned my own house by killing her. There is no heaven for her, why should be there one for me? I lie beside my dead Deer. There was nothing else in my life. I killed myself. With these thought I closed my eyes. I could hear they were coming closer. The smell of blood lured them here. Soon I will join this planet. Maybe in this way I would be one with the universe and I would become the God!

“All Life is Sacred, All life is beautiful”

***

This story is only written for entertainment proposes and does not reflect my opinion.

Good luck!...

P.S: Any comment is appreciated.

Fail

2010-10-19T21:28:00.002-03:00

And when you FAIL!

"-What is your Greatest Fear? -Failure!"

Storyteller

2010-10-11T02:07:00.002-03:00

I hope I can tell stories for the rest of my life. I don't want to see the day that I became speechless. Again I'm feeling that I am my stories. Without them I am a broken soul. Living as a storyteller can be difficult!!!!

Good Luck!...

Life

2010-10-08T15:31:00.002-03:00

«بشنو از من کودک من زندگانی خواه تیره، خواه روشن... هست زیبا، هست زیبا ، هست زیبا»

...!با اجازه

Rewards

2010-10-03T03:49:00.003-03:00

It's a new day. I don't see the sun yet. It's still the middle of the night. But I can feel the warmth. Through Your Arms. Through Your Heart.

Life Gives rewards sometimes!

پارسی

2010-09-26T23:05:00.003-03:00

نوشتن، و باز نوشتن و باز هم نوشتن. این نوشتن برای چیست؟ زمانی بود که رویای نویسنده بودن را به دوش می کشیدم. و آرزو داشتم با این استعدادی که از کودکی تلاش به تقویتش کردم به قله ای از افتخار و شکوه برسم. اما این رویا سالهاست که در کنج ذهن من تنها نشسته و خاک می خورد. هر روزی را که در این کشور، دور از زادگاهم می گذرانم از اصلیت خویش دورتر می شوم. من تغییر کرده ام. آنچه که زمانی برایم افتخار بود تبدیل شد به ننگ و آنچه را که خوار می پنداشتم اکنون زندگی من است. اما یک چیز هنوز در من مانده. عشق من به زبان فارسی. و فقط و فقط برای اوست که می نویسم. دیگر نمی توانم به خودم اجازه فکر کردن به این زبان دلبر را به دهم و در عشقش گم شوم. امیدوارم در دنیا روزی بیاید که همه به توانند به زبان اول خود با هم سخن بگوییند

...!با اجازه

consequences

2010-09-24T00:25:00.003-03:00

Living is not only about making the choices, It's about understanding them. The pattern is simple: Standing between choices, making the choice, feeling the consequences, understanding the choice, Facing the consequences. I'm facing the last part right now!!!! There is no right or wrong choice, it's just the moment, and the stream of consciousness that made you make that choice. Everything else is immaterial.

An interesting point: The main thing that we need to learn in out sociology class is SOCIOLOGICAL IMAGINATION. Thanks Mr.Ezati :)

Nature has a very strange way of paying back.

Good luck!...

Orgin

2010-09-16T10:00:00.002-03:00

It's funny how people around you would vanish when you mention you are Iranian!! But why wouldn't I stop mentioning it? Does it really matter?

خیلی جالبه که وقتی می گی ایرانی هستی کسایی که اطرافتن خود به خود پراکنده می شن! پس چرا من هنوز اصرار دارم که بگم ایرانی هستم؟ واقعا مهم هست که من ایرانیم؟

Choices

2010-09-06T01:33:00.002-03:00

Life is based on nothing, but our choices! But a choice would not change anything unless you understand why did you make it. There is only one way to understand life, UNDERSTANDING OURSELVES!

Good Luck!...

Helping

2010-09-04T14:51:00.003-03:00

Can someone please tell me why do I fail at helping other people? Every time I try, they tell me to shut up. When someone feel bad and ask for my help, I will try to help them to face his/her problem alone. And every single time I make them so angry that they want me to leave. What should I do? We are alone in this world; either we face our problems alone or we have to beg others for the rest of our life. There isn't any choice! We are destined to be alone. But it is hard when I can't help the people I care about. What should I tell them? Lies; I'm sorry to hear that; are these enough? It's not enough for me!!!!

Good bye!...

Illusion

2010-08-28T01:27:00.004-03:00

Getting blind by an illusion is easier than I thought. A very simple example of an illusion is love. But thats not mine, At least not anymore. Novels and stories were once my life; Some how it still is. I lost touch with reality! What is real and what's not real. An illusion that I can understand how people think, the stream of consciousness. I thought every novel, every story, would give me a hint about mind; and after years I would be able to understand how people think. But lets face it. Its a lost cause. I thought my writing would show the reader my mind, my thoughts, but no one can understand how I think, Not even myself. This is the day which changed my path. The material has become the immaterial.

Good luck!...

p.s: But a novel is not just about understanding the mind, it talks about much more. So Read Please! Read more! :)

Dream

2010-08-21T23:54:00.002-03:00

Have you ever had a dream that was so real? and you can still remember most of it, even some very small details, after a few years! Of course you have. I don't know how does it work, but from the very first day I came here I started to dream every single night. But the most interesting part is the effect that these dreams on me. I've been influenced by them. More than I can understand.

Good Luck!...

"These are desperate times! Desperate measures are called for."

Confession

2010-08-20T00:27:00.001-03:00

ok I admit, I changed a lot! But that doesn't mean I'm a human. Perhaps I became a tree. Should I call it evolution? Was this change acquired by natural selection? Is tree the fittest in these dark times?

Wolf-Question

2010-08-16T23:30:00.005-03:00

گاهی فکر می کنم آیا واقعا تغییر کردم؟ چه فرقی با یک سال پیش دارم؟ آیا هنوز می توانم خودم را گرگ بنامم و ادعا کنم که از خانواده ام مانند یک گرگ حمایت می کنم؟ آیا تبدیل به بره ای ساده شدم؟ یا هنوز خوی گرگ گونه ام را دارم! واقعا نمی دانم. دیگر نیازی به گرگ بودن نیست، اما هنوز هم از آدم بودن وحشت دارم!

:((

...!با اجازه

Sometimes I wonder, did I really changed? How am I different from who I was last year? Do I still consider myself as a wolf, who will kill or die for his pack? Or am I just a small lamb? Or do I still have my Wolf instincts! I really don't know. I really don't need to be a wolf anymore, but I'm afraid to become a human.

:((

Good luck!...

P.S: Beside this depressing post, Tell me what does these lines mean to you?

"The percentage of us tow the line

The rest of us out of reach
Everybody party time
Some of us will never sleep again "

Explanation

2010-08-12T23:36:00.004-03:00

It has been quite a long time that I've been searching for my meaning in life. There wasn't any success at all. I went through all the ideas that I know, but none had the answer. None of them was good enough to live with. None could make me love life. As I became a bit frustrated, I can't help not to wonder can you love life at all? Do YOU love life? If so, what about it is so freaking lovely? The surprise? Or the harmony? Or maybe you are blind by love!

Good Luck...

It's a Dream within a Dream(Inspired by Inception)

2010-08-06T23:53:00.004-03:00

If the only way that one's understand he/she is dreaming, is to remember how did he/she gets there; then how do we understand we are not dreaming right now. It does not matter how extraordinary our memory is, we still can't remember how did we come to be. There are photos or other evidences but they can be made by our subconscious to convince us this is real. But in the end does it make a difference? Does it matter that we live in a dream and we might woke up someday? Does it matter that what ever we do in here is not going to affect us? If thats true, who is the real you? Again Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Why do you live? Please tell me!

Good Luck...

Love

2010-08-04T23:53:00.002-03:00

مسخره است اگر من از عشق سخن بگم. نه به دلیل اینکه عاشق نیستم، نه به دلیل اینکه بهش باور ندارم. فقط و فقط به خاطر اینکه من جز سیب سبزم چیز دیگری ندارم. پس باید عاشق آن باشم اما چه طور می شود عاشق چیزی بود که هزاران هزار از آن وجود دارد؟ حتی می توانم بگویم که عشق من محدود به سیب سبز نیست، من تمام سیب ها را عاشقانه دوست دارم. همه سیب ها زیبا هستند. پس اگر عشق یگانه است که من عاشق نیستم و عشق غیر قابل دسترسی خواهد بود. اما اگر عشق می تواند زیاد باشد و به یک نفر ختم نشود پس من هر روز عشق را تجربه می کنم. چون با هر سیبی که می بینم یک بار به معراجش می روم و باز می گردم. و چه ناپاک است این عشق من. به راستی که به این درخت پیر نمی شود اعتماد کرد

...با اجازه

It is wrong if I talk about Love. it's not because I'm not in Love, or that I don't believe in it. It's simply due to the fact that I don't have anything other than Green Apples. So I have to be in love with it. But how can I be in love with something that I have a lot. And it's not just the Green Apple, I love all kind of Apples, all of them are beautiful. So if love can only have one subject, then I'm not a lover and I can never be. But if love can be shared between many subjects, then I fall in love every hour of everyday. Because I will make love to each and every Apple. This love is so sinful. And truly this old tree cannot be trusted!

Good luck...

Tree

2010-07-26T00:50:00.003-03:00

An old fellow came close, he put his hands on me and started to talk. It was very strange, because I couldn't answer him. After all I was a very old Tree.

" Why? Why do you do it? Why do you live?" The Old man said with anger.

" I lived for 100 years, I'm lucky I can talk, hear, see, smell, or walk. I'm lucky that I remember how old I am, or how many children, or grand children do I have. BUT LOOK AT YOU???!?!?!?!" He shouted with rage.

" Look at you, you lived for ... I don't know, maybe 700 years, or even more, why do you live, whats your point? Is it just a blind survival? or you have a goal? You wanna play? Or you just can't choose? Do you think at all?"

He was very angry, I could see it all over his face, but then he looked different, like something in his chest was burning. And with his final breath he said: " Please, tell me"

I stand there, like always. His body fell in front of me, I couldn't catch him. He died, and there was nothing I could do.

100 years have passed since that time, I still think why did that man want to know why? Why?

Ideas

2010-07-15T15:17:00.004-03:00

I wonder what makes an idea powerful? What makes it worth dying for? Is it the idea? Or its just us? Our imagination can make something huge, out of nothing. From the simple astronomical signs, and the simple idea of being good, we made thousands of religions. I'm not gonna talk about God, or any of these matters. Lets just think about the other ideologies in the world. Communism, Marxism, Leninism, Liberalism, Capitalism, republicanism, monarchism, Imperialism, fascism, nazism, Anarchism, Vatican, Islamic empire, socialism, and etc. All these ideas had their chances in this world. Some of these ideas are still out there. Some failed their main goal, and some simply don't exist anymore. These days media makes the world Black and White, therefore some of these ideas are from the dark side, while other are in light. No one can forget the Cold War. From the point of view of an Apple, that of course is an environmentalist, all these ideas share a common view.

"WE ARE THE BEST, AND WE WILL DO ANYTHING TO PROVE THAT."

So there is only one thing I can tell them, Fight for it and destroy this God damn world! Thank you for your concern about the world and trying to make it a better place.

Good Luck...

P.S: No need to Translate!

knowing

2010-07-08T23:35:00.003-03:00

Once again, I'm here, in front of computer, typing. There is something in my mind, I don't know what. There is something in my heart, blocking my mind. Nothing can describe, the darkness that came upon.

I changed, Not the way I want. I forget,what its like to be none

No way to go,No way to run.

I stand there, Without a sun. The Clouds were there,Blocking my mind.

No way to go,No way to run.

She was there,Standing close, Wandering why,I wouldn't go.

No way to go,No way to run.

I told her why,I don't wanna go, I don't want feel,I don’t want to know.

No way to see,No way to say.

There is nothing left, of this tale. I'm lost in a dark,without a hope.

But I remember,I don't need hope.

Then why do I ask,what do I want? From this girl, without a heart.

She didn’t say, she didn’t love.

I asked you to say, I asked you to love. I only needed one, I only needed one.

My soul was burning, In fire, In Dark.

We stand there, looking at us. We stand there wondering why.

I told her: we have to go, we have to know.

BUT IT WAS TOO LATE FOR US TO KNOW!...

Truth

2010-06-25T14:11:00.000-03:00

من اشتباه می کردم! انقدر در جهل فرو رفته بودم که کور شده بودم. من دنیا را انطوری که بود ندیدم. من گفتم زندگی زیباست، گفته و ناگفته ای بس نکته ها کینجاست.من این را باور کردم. به سمت زیبا شدن حرکت کردم. من اشتباه کردم. دنیا هر چیزی هست جز زیبا دنیا مثل یک چاه بزرگ و سیاه، که هر کسی در اون زندگی میکنه پر از اشغال، انگل دنیا هم در اون زندگی میکنه. مردم این دنیا به خاطر رنگ پوستشون یا جایی که به دنیا اومدن با هم بد رفتاری می کنن. هیچ چیز خوبی تو این دنیا وجود نداره. زیبایی یک دروغ بیشتر نیست به جهنم خوش آمدید.

I was wrong! I was so wrong that it blinded me. I didn’t see the world the way it is. I said life is beautiful. I believed it. I moved toward being beautiful. I was wrong. Life is anything but beautiful. “There is a hole in the world like a great black pit, that filled with people who are filled with shit, the vermin of the world inhabit it, and that is Life. People are mean to each other just because of the place they born, or their skin color. There is nothing good in this world. Beauty is a Lie. Welcome to Hell

moving

2010-06-23T00:47:00.001-03:00

من فرار کردم! از آن چیزی که میدانستم! از ان چیزی که بودم! همینطور به فرار کردن ادامه دادم! برای ماه ها دویدم! اما برای من بیشتر از چند ماه بود! برای من سالیانی درازی بود! من هنوز شبهای طولانی را به یاد دارم! هنوز روزهای طولانی را به یاد دارم! اما من گذاشتم را عقب گذاشته بودم! به همین دلیل دلم برایش تنگ نمیشود! این لحاظات و خاطره ها حال گذاشته من شده! من باز هم شروع به حرکت کردن کردم! اما این بر ندویدم! این بر گذاشتم را به خاطر دارم! و دلم برایش تنگ شده! دلم برایت تنگ شده! دوستت دارم!

پ.ن: من از هالیفکس به تورونتو آمدم! دلم برای شهر قدیمی ام تنگ شده! :(

I ran! From what I knew! From what I were! I kept running! For months I was running. But it was more than that for me! It was years, maybe decades! I remember the long nights! And the long days! But I left the past, so I couldn't miss it! Those memories became my past! I moved again but this time I did not run! I remember my past this time! And I miss it! I miss you! I love you!

P.S. : I moved from Halifax to Toronto! I missed my old city! :(

Hope

2010-06-14T22:12:00.003-03:00

امید، بار دیگر میتوانم ببینمش. ایستاده بر روی قله ای بلند! مستحکم! زیبا! صدایش میکنم: امید! به من هم نگاهی بیانداز! اما او همینطور به روبرویش خیره شده! بار دگر می خوانمش. امید! باز هم جوابی نمیدهد! خسته میشوم! با خود میگویم: من امیدی دیگر ندارم، چه کنم؟ راهم را کج میکنم و از قله ای که انتهایش معلوم نیست شروع به بالا رفتن میکنم. راهی بس دشوار بود. اما در این دشواری زیبایی وجود داشت که نچشیده بودم! در این دشواری زندگی را بار دیگر فهمیدم. تا توانستم بالاتر رفتم! به قله ای رسیدم! خوشحال بودم. چند قله بلندتر هم در برابرم قرار داشت. آماده شدم تا به سمت آنها هم حرکت کنم که چشمم به قله ای کوتاهتر از خودم افتاد! مطمئن نبودم که که بار روی ان ایستاده. دقت که کردم فهمیدم کسی نیست جز امید! امید چند متری پایین تر از من ایستاده بود و به من لبخند میزد! برایش دستی تکان دادم که به سمت من بیاید! اما سرش را به نشانه منفی تکانی داد! فریاد زدم چرا؟ به آرامی دستش را بلند کرد و قله های بالانتری را نشان داد! لبخندی زدم و به راهم ادامه دادم!

...!با اجازه

Hope, once again I could see him. He was standing on the top of a tall mount! Strong! Beautiful! I called him: Hope! Look at me! But he didn't look. I called him once again! Look at me! He didn't answer me! I got tired. I asked myself: I don't have hope anymore, What can I do? I changed my way and started to climb a mount that I could not see the top! The road was challenging! But in this challenge there was a beauty that I did not felt before! Once again, I understood life in this challenge. I went up and up, as long as I could. Finally I reached the top! I was happy. I could see a few taller mounts! I started to move toward them but I saw someone on another mount that was shorter than mine! I realized it was hope! He was standing a few feet lower than me, and he was smiling! I waved at him and asked him to come to me. He shook his head! I shouted: WHY? He pointed at taller mounts! I smiled and started to move on!

Good Luck!...

P.S.: This makes much more sense in Persian! I'm sorry!

Story Last Part

2010-05-24T15:28:00.002-03:00

Confessions of Marks (Part 4, Modified version)

He recited this poem. So he did not have anything to lose; he just wanted to die. With this idea I went out of the room. I was too tired to write anything. So I just went to sleep. That night my head was filled with all these characters and books. I had the fears of the Mariner, with the evils of Dorian, the sharks that killed my fish, with Lorenzo’s head on my plate, and then I was falling from the cliff.

The next day I was confused. I finally learned that he was innocent and it was just a suicide. I went back to prison to fill my report. But they told me that they found a new proof and he actually killed his wife. Last night he told the police where he had hide the blade and they found his finger prints all over it. “it’s impossible!” I said with shock. I asked to meet him again; because of my good reputation they gave me that chance, so I went into the same room again. He was siting there like the first time I met him. He looked at me and smiled. “You don’t want to give up. Do you?” he said with his casual voice.

how could you do that?
Well you seemed like a person who liked to get confused. I told you the problems with intellectual people. They make everything so complex.
I believed that you were innocent. All the stories that you told me! Everything was a lie!
You know that it wasn’t a lie. I couldn’t hold you for three days with lies.
Than how is that possible? Which part of the story you didn’t tell me?

I ended up shouting this into his face. He looked up with his amazing blue eyes. He was smiling. “I have one more assignment for you.” he said with his casual smile.

tell me the truth!
Have you ever read the book The Road?
No.
Read it.
Is it another game?
This is our last meeting. I would not play a game with you. You want the truth, here it is, in that book. When you are reading it think about the connection between the boy and the father. You would realize how I feel. Put me as father and my wife as the son. Good bye my friend!
Have a good life in prison Mr.Marks.

I did not want to read that book. I could not believe I wasted my energy on that lunatic. But I knew that the moment I get out of the room I would go to the closest book store and buy that book. An hour later I had the book in my hand and I was reading it in my bed. “When he woke up in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he’d reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him...”(McCarthy, The Road, page1)

The End

Abtin

Story Part 3

2010-05-23T10:54:00.003-03:00

The Confessions of Marks (Part 3)

When I left the room I had only two things in my mind, Oscar Wilde and John Keats. I spend the night reading about them and their work. Two nights without sleep made me really tired. By the afternoon I was devastated. When I walked in into the same room again, I saw him standing and looking toward the sun. He started to talk when he notice my arrival.

Sun. I’m always fascinated by how beautiful it looks. I love sun. The same way the Old Man loved sea. My wife and I spend many afternoons looking at the sun. Well of course it is not easy to look at the sun in the afternoon, but we got used to it.
You know that you cannot ever look at the sun with her again.
You are mean.
Why did you kill her if you loved her so much.
Why did the old man killed the fish?
Who are you talking about.
The Old Man and The Sea. I have to admit it is my favorite.

Now I remembered. He was exactly like the image that I had from the Old Man in that book. “Really? I hated that book.” I said with surprise.

He got excited and sat behind the table. “so we can have a discussion about it.” he said like a teenage boy.

sure Mr.Marks.
The Old Man and The Sea was beautiful. It had a beautiful story, with a simplistic writing style. It was all about love and it was completely useless.
It was boring. I could not think about it. There was nothing special about that book.
Don’t you see it. It was very special. Everything in that book can be taken as a symbol. I think the boy does not exist at all. He was just a reflection of the Old Mans life.
I understand that this part of the story was nice. But the story did not have many things to allow my imagination to flourish. It was a blank book that I did not have anything to think about after I finished it.
Well I understand your point. I assume this is just the difference in out view about beauty.
So your point about the poem is that you made her die. Someone killed her to protect you. If it is like that who killed her?
She killed herself by shooting the albatross!
What are you talking about?
Did you read “ The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”?
Oh... Now I remember. So by shooting at the albatross, she killed herself. But you should not stop leaving because you lost someone. Why did you confess you killed her?

- “Is there a solitary wretch who hies

To the tall cliff, with starting pace or slow,

And, measuring, views with wild and hollow eyes

Its distance from the waves that chide below;

Who, as the sea-born gale with frequent sighs

Chills his cold bed upon the mountain turf,

With hoarse, half-utter'd lamentation, lies

Murmuring responses to the dashing surf?

In moody sadness, on the giddy brink,

I see him more with envy than with fear;

He has no nice felicities that shrink

From giant horrors; wildly wandering here,

He seems (uncursed with reason) not to know

The depth or the duration of his woe.”

(Charlotte Smith, On Being Cautioned Against Walking on an Headline Overlooking the Sea, Because it was Frequented by a Lunatic.)

Story Part 2

2010-05-21T20:53:00.002-03:00

Confessions of Marks (Part2)

I left him in the room. I bought the book, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and went back home. This book was fascinating. While I was reading it I could understand what he meant by corruption. I spent the whole night reading that book. By dawn I finished the book. It was fascinating. If he saw himself as Dorian and his wife was The portrait, then now he changed his place with his portrait. This theory would make sense if he was a criminal. But on the other hand, he was a person who owns a charity and helped a lot of people. How could he be corrupted? Every one who knew them a little came to the court and confessed that he and his wife was in love and they did not have any problems. No one ever heard them getting into an argument. I take a look at his file again. It seems that this man reads a lot of novels and his wife was a writer. With all these thoughts I looked at my clock. I had to go to work in an hour.

I had a meeting with him this afternoon as well. When I walked into the room he sightly moved his head an had glance from the entrance. “I have nothing more to tell you. What ever you want from me is in that book.” said the man with a disappointed look. I went closer and sat in front of him and put the novel on the table. “I read it!” I said with joy.

oh... Thats unusual. Well what do you think?
The book is fascinating. But I’m sure you made a mistake. The reason for Dorian’s corruption was Lord Henry not the portrait.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
I’m sorry Mr.Marks but I don’t understand your point here.
Think my friend, was he even corrupted? Lord Henry was a genius and Dorian was basically so blank and thought less.
And what does it has to do with you Mr.Marks.
I thought you were different for a moment. Oh well. It seems I expect to much from ordinary people.
Thanks for your insult Mr.Marks; but you did not answer my question.
That part of the book has nothing to do with my life. Think about the portrait and Dorian. She was my portrait, what ever I did, whether it was evil or good, she was the picture of my soul. I was simply like dorian.
You mean all the charities that you did was her idea and you wanted to be free so you killed her? If that is true how did you do that? There is no evidence that you killed her.
No, I was free. Everyone is free. Even in this prison I am free. No one can enslave anybody else except themselves.
I assume you really liked Lord Henry. You talk so similar to him.
I take what ever I can from the people I enjoy, Good or bad.
You did not answer me how did you killed her?
Have you ever read the poem “Isabella or the Pot of Basil”?
Yes, I remember it. I read it when I was 16. It was a long time ago but I can still remember it.
I’m starting to like you. Do you remember how Lorenzo died?
Yes.
This is how I killed my wife. In my opinion it was not the brothers who killed Lorenzo. It was Isabella who killed him. Ok times up. See you tomorrow my friend.
We will talk about this tomorrow Mr.Marks.

Story

2010-05-20T22:31:00.002-03:00

This is a story I wrote for my english class. Enjoy!

The Confessions of Marks (Part 1)

Light was coming inside from the the little window at the top of the wall. The walls were all white and reflects the years of pain through them. I went inside the room. There he was. Sitting at the side of the table in the middle of the room, looking at his hand. He had a prison cloth on and he was playing with the hand calfs. He did not notice that I entered, or he was just not interested in another lawyer. I was in need of money so I had to accept this case. The last lawyer left the case in just two sessions. They told me that he was a sociopath and he thinks he killed his wife. I tried to mention my arrival by taking a few steps toward him; but he did not move. Finally I went and sat against him. He looked up. His face was dead. When he looked up his eyes were closed. I was scared for a second. I thought probably this kind of look from a 35 years old man was because of the death of his wife. He is a dead man, without any hope, he is nothing but a living shadow. I guessed that his wife had cheated on him and then he killed her. He start talking with a soft and beautiful voice. His voice somehow remind me of a character in a book, An Old man. “Are you my new friend?” said the man.

Then he opened his eyes. The blue color of his eyes was so beautiful that I could not take my eyes from it. It was possible to see life in those blue eyes. Those were the only living things in his face. “Well if you tell me the truth.” I said with a my broken voice. He smiled and shook my hand. “Truth is simply the opinion of a person. Ones opinion make their world the way they want to see it, truth is just a simple trick people use to justify their evil actions.” he said while smiling.

-Thats a bold statement Mr.Marks.

-There is no such thing as bold. Both bolds and cowards would die at the end.

-I’m not sure if I understand your point Mr.Marks.

-There is no point my friend.

He was starring at me with his beautiful eyes and he was smiling like it was a regular conversation he had in an afternoon with tea. I was beginning to think he was trying to focus on other subjects and he would not tell me the story; but with my surprise he started to talk again.

You want to know the story? It is simple I killed my wife and now I’m here.
Well there is no proof that you did it, and why would you kill your wife after 10 years of marriage. I’m sorry Mr.Marks but I cannot understand anything from your file.
This is always the problem with intellectual people, they don’t see the most obvious solutions. I confessed it. I needed to kill her.
What do you mean by “I needed to kill her?”
You are awfully smart for being a lawyer.
Mr.Marks if you want me to help you, you need to answer my questions.
All these years she was corrupting my life. The story my life is like Dorian Gray. She was my Portrait.
Ah... That is interesting. Well unfortunately I haven’t read that book.
Then I’m afraid your answer is in that book. It was nice seeing you my friend.
You too Mr.Marks.

Sorry Again

2010-05-04T23:04:00.001-03:00

Sorry I can't write these days, again. Something happened for a friend of mine!

Good Luck!

Why

2010-04-18T23:50:00.003-03:00

هر دفعه شروع به فکر کردن می کنم ذهنم پرواز می کند، به جنگل هایی می رود که در واقعیت به آنها دسترسی ندارم. نمی توانم ذهنم را متوقف کنم اما به محض اینکه قلمم را به دست میگیرم، صدایی خشک و خشن در ذهنم می گوید: به ایست!! به کجا می روی؟ با خود فکر کردم چرا نمی توانم چیزی بنویسم که از خواندنش لذت ببرم! چرا نمی توانم با کسی از احساساتم سخن بگویم بدون آنکه مجبور به مخفی کردن قسمتی یا تغییر دادن قسمتی دیگر و یا حتی گاهی مجبور به دروغ گویی باشم! و بعد از چند دقیقه ای پشیمان نباشم از ابی که ریختم!! هیچ گاه نشد که بنویسم و لذت ببرم! مشکل کجاست؟ آیا چیزی نیست که که بر پای ان نوشته ای به وجود اید و یا اینکه این ترس قدیمی از سخن گفتن در مورد احساسات که به اشتباه ۵ ساله پیش موجب به تغییر زندگی من شد تا امروز گریبان گیر من است و من هیچ وقت نمی توانم از ان جدا شوم! آری من نمی توانم بنویسم! به محض اینکه قلم را نزدیک می اورم فرشته هایی که روی شانه ام نشسته اند شروع به جنگ می کنند و به کلی از یاد می برم که چرا می خواستم بنویسم و چه حسی بود که از من می خواست بنویسم! در همین حال که این چند خط را یادداشت می کنم صدایی در ذهنم می گوید بس است! اما نمی خواهم به ان گوش کنم! خسته شدم از مخفی کردن! می خواهم خودم باشم! به چه قیمتی میتوانم این گوهر را بدست آورم؟ اما آیا خود بودن گوهر است؟ در موقع ترک سرزمینم دوستی برایم نوشت که وقتی از اشناهایمان دور می شویم خودمان را گم میکنیم چون انسانها خود را با انسانهای اطراف خود تعریف می کنند! خاطراتم را که مرور میکنم می فهمم که درست است! من با اکثر دوستانم بد رفتاری می کردم اما در حال حاضر هر کاری می کنم که به هر کسی کمک کنم به هر طریقی که باشد! چه چیزی مرا عوض کرد؟ نشان دادن چهره خوب از ملتم؟ آری، شاید! اما این کافی نیست! این روزها از دوستان گذشته ام می شنوم! آنها هم تغییر کردند! این تغییرات ما را از هم بسیار دور کرده است که دیگر نمی دانم چطور باید با آنها سخن بگویم! برمی گردم سر اولین سوالم: چرا نمی توانم نوشته ای داشته باشم که به دلم بنشیند؟ چه چیزی در من می لنگد؟ معلم هنرمان می گوید که هر کسی می تواند !نقاش شود! پر بیراه هم نیست

...!با اجازه

Whenever I start thinking my mind will flew toward the jungles I could never reach in reality! I cant stop it; but the moment I start writing it, there is a voice in my head that would yell stop! Where the hell are you going? I thought why can't I write anything that I would enjoy reading afterwards? Why when ever I talk to someone about my feelings I have to change or cut some parts or even lie about it; or even regret talking about it and try getting back my spoiled milk! I had never enjoyed my own notes! Whats wrong in here? Is there a problem with my knowledge and thoughts that i don't have enough meaning to base a writing on it? Or is it my old fear of talking about my feelings that changed my life 5 years ago and it is still hunting me! yes, i cannot write! The moment i start writing a war would broke out inside my head and I would forget what or why I wanted to write and what was the emotion that temped me to start writing! As i'm typing these words there is a voice inside my head that wants me to stop! i'm not gonna listen to him! I'm tired of hiding! I want to be myself! How can i get this precious? But is it a precious? when I was leaving my homeland a friend of mine wrote a note for me; he said that when we leave, we usually suffer a personality crisis, because humans define their personality base on the people around them. When I dig into my memories I see that he was right! I was mean to most people around me, but now I will do anything to help anyone no matter what would happen! What happened that I changed this much? showing that all Iranians are super nice? maybe, but its not enough! I hear about my old friends, they changed as well! These changes are like a wall between us that I don't know how to break! Lets focus on my first question: why don't I enjoy my writings? Whats wrong with me? Our art teacher said "anyone can become an artist!" i'm sure he is right!

Good Luck!...

THE PREFACE-The Picture of Dorian Gray

2010-03-26T20:17:00.001-03:00

The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things. The highest, as the lowest, form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things means only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all. The nineteenth-century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass. The nineteenth-century dislike of Romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his face in a glass. The moral life of man forms part if the subject-matter of the artist, butt the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved. No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything. Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type. All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital. When critics disagree the artist is in accord with himself. We can forgive a man for making a useful things as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art are quite useless. OSCAR WILDE

SOGA-2

2010-03-22T22:45:00.003-03:00

این دفعه میتوانم! سیب را نزدیکتر برد. سعی کرد حواسش را متوجه چیز دیگری کند! دمی کشید و خواست گازی از سیب بزند. اما چنان که رایحه سیب به مشامش رسید دیگر نتوانست ان را نزدیکتر ببرد. چشمانش را بست. میخواست بگرید اما نمیتوانست. به سیب سبز نگاه انداخت. سبزیی اش یاد آور زندگی بود. شاخه قهویی اش یاد آور ایستادگی! رایحه اش به زندگی اش معنا میداد. و طعمش... و طعمش معنای عشق! اما با رسیدن به این عشق معنا و ایستادگی و زندگی چه میشود؟

با اجازه!...

I can do it this time! He brought the Apple closer. He tried to think of something else! He took a breath and went to bite the Apple. But the moment that he could smell the Apple he couldn't bring it closer. He closed his eyes. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He stared at the Apple. Its green was a reminder of Life. Its brown stem was a reminder of strength. And it tasted like ... tasted like Love! But if he would reach that love what would happen to Meaning, Life, and Strength

...!Good luck

Happy new year

2010-03-18T10:03:00.001-03:00

بوی جان می آید اینک از نفس های بهار

دستهای پر گل اند این شاخه ها ؛ بهر نثار

با پیام دلکش " نوروزتان پیروز باد "

با سرود تازه " هر روزتان نوروز باد "

شهر سرشار است از لبخند ؛ از گل ؛ از امید

تا جهان باقی ست این آئین جهان افروز باد

Good Luck!...

Story Of Green Apple(SOGA)-1

2010-03-17T00:29:00.003-03:00

به قدری سبز بود که چشماش را میزد! خواست به ان نزدیکتر شود. خواست ان را در دست بگیرد و ببویداش، اما نمیتوانست به ان نزدیک شود. حسی به او میگفت که شاید این حق اوست که نمیتواند این زیبا را داشته باشد، این عشق را داشته باشد. با خود گفت: "مگر من در زندگی چه کردم که این نعمت حق من باشد! من قدرتی نداشتم، ندارم! چیزی جز مرگ حق من نیست! حتا قدرت این را ندارم که بمیرم! چون گمشودیی در شب هستم! چون درمانده ای! برگی شناور در باد! چوبی بر روی رود! کاش میتوانستم! ای کاش میتوانستم برای یک بر هم که شده اشک بریزم! اما حیف تنها قدرتی را هم که در کودکی داشتم با غرور از دست دادم و به این سنگ تبدیل شدم که میشکند اما باز هم سنگ است!" نگاهی دوباره به سیب سبز انداخت! ان را برداشت و بالا گرفت و به ان خیره ماند!

...!با اجازه

The Green light hurts his eyes! He wanted to get closer. He wanted to pick it up and smell it, but he couldn't get closer. He felt that he does not have the right to have this Beauty, this LOVE. He thought: " What have I done in life so this would be my prize! I didn't ... don't have any powers! I only deserve to Die! I even to have the power to Die! I'm Lost in the darkness of the night! I'm helpless! Just like a leaf in storm! A wood in river! I wish! I wish I could cry! Just for once! Alas that I lost this power with a childish pride and turned into this cold heart Stone that can be shattered, but its still a Stone!" He looked at the Green Apple again! He picked it up and stared at it!

Good Luck!...

I wish

2010-03-15T23:44:00.005-03:00

ای کاش قدرت خاصی داشتم! ای کاش میتوانستم بسازم! ای کاش میتوانستم نبود کنم! ای کاش میتوانستم زندگی ببخشم! ای کاش میتوانستم بکشم! ای کاش میتوانستم ... میتوانستم بنویسم و ذهن همه را تسخیر کنم! یا اینکه میتوانستم قلب ها را تسخیر کنم! ای کاش میتوانستم پرواز کنم! ای کاش میتوانستم به عقب برگردم! ای کاش میتوانستم به دیگری کمک کنم! ای کاش میتوانستم به خودم کمک کنم! ای کاش میتوانستم با ذهنم همه چیز کنترل کنم! ای کاش میتوانستم آهنگ بزنم! ای کاش میتوانستم سخن بگویم! ای کاش میتوانستم اشتباهات را پاک کنم! و ای کاش میشود تنها زندگی کرد!!

هر چه بود را پشت سر گذاشتم اما به جلو حرکت نکردم! "همیشه راحت تر است که بدویم و این درد را با بیحسی جایگزین کنیم ! بعضی اوقات به این فکر میکنم که بگذارم گذشته را بروم و هیچ وقت هم به جلو نروم تا هیچ وقت گذشته ای نباشد"!

...!با اجازه

I wish I had a power! I wish I could build! I wish I could destroy! I wish I could give life! I wish I could kill! I wish I could ... I could write, so that i could capture minds! Or i could capture hearts! I wish I could fly! I wish I could go back in time! I wish I could help others! I wish I could help myself! I wish I could control everything with my mind! I wish I could play music! I wish I could talk! I wish I could retrace every wrong move that I made! I wish I could live alone!

"It's always easier to run, replacing this pain with something numb! Some times I think of letting go and never looking back and never moving forward so there never be a past!"

Good Luck!...

Sorry

2010-03-03T19:36:00.001-04:00

I'm so sorry for the delay that is happening. I can't write these days!!

Solitary

2010-02-27T00:15:00.003-04:00

یه سوال؟ چرا حرف زدن با دیگران لذت بخشه؟ یا بهتر بگم نیازه؟ چرا در انفرادی زندگی کردن خیلی سخته؟

...!با اجازه

I have a question? Why is it enjoyable to chat with someone? Or I rather say why we need to talk to someone? Why is it hard to live in a solitary?

Good Luck!...

Author

2010-02-24T16:40:00.003-04:00

معلم میشناختم که میخواست به من بفهماند که نویسندگی به خط خوش نیست! به کلمات زیبا و آرایهای ادبی نیست! این جان کلام است که به نوشته زندگی میدهد و همین طور به نویسنده! اگر معنای ذهنی نباشد نوشته چیزی جز کاغذ رنگی نیست! و هنوز هم من این را نفهمیدم! دریغا که نویسنده نیستم! و این زندگی زیبا را درک نخواهم کرد!

...!با اجازه

I knew a teacher who was trying to teach me that being a writer is not about having a good hand writing! it's not about the Beautiful words! The meaning inside a note is important! It's the meaning who gives personality to the writer and the note! With out a good meaning the note is no different from a scrap paper! And I haven't learn it! Alas, that I'm not a writer! So I cannot understand this Beautiful Life!

Good Luck!...

Habit

2010-02-23T20:08:00.003-04:00

و عادت کردن چقدر خوب است! دوری؟ ملالی نیست! تنهایی؟ دردی نیست! دل تنگی؟ می گذرد! زندگی؟ زیباست! و عادت کردن چقدر بد است! دوریش؟ غم است! نبودنش؟ جهنمی است! مرگش؟ مرگ است! زندگی؟ زیباست! و میتوانم این را هر روز تکرار کنم و در آخر هم باز من می مانم و این زیبایی! و چه زود میگذرد زمان. دیروز با خود میگفتم:" چه گونه بروم؟" رفتم! امروز با خود گویم:"چه گونه بروم؟" رفتم! و فردا باز هم میروم! و در آخر هنوز متوجه نشدم که این من نبودم که رفتم! من سیبی بودم شناور در رود! و این رود مرا با خود برد. به دریایی رسید. شناور ماندم. به ساحل رسید. در شن ماندم! و موجی دیگر آمد و مرا برد با خود. و نام این را چه بگذارم جز زیبایی؟

"گفته بودم زندگی زیباست، گفته و ناگفته ای بس نکتها کین جاست."

...!با اجازه

To get used to is really good! Being far away? No problem! Loneliness? No matter! To miss? It will pass! Life? Beautiful!

To get used to is really bad! She is away? Sadness! She is gone? Hell! She is dead? Death! Life? Beautiful!

And it will happen every day and at the end all that awaits me is this Beautiful Life!

And Time moves so fast, yesterday is was thinking: "How can I leave?" I left! Today i'm thinking: "How can I leave?" I'm leaving! And tomorrow I will leave! And at the end i didn't notice that it wasn't me who left! I'm an apple flouting on the river! And this river took me! We reached a Sea! I was still flouting! We reached the shore! I couldn't move! So another wave took me! Can you call it anything other than Beautiful!

"I said Life is Beautiful, But there are many details remained!"

Good Luck!...

-no title-

2010-02-22T17:24:00.001-04:00

انا لله و انا الیه الراجعون

بازگشت همه به سوی اوست

All of us will return to him!

Life of a Tree

2010-02-21T20:53:00.004-04:00

چند سال پیش داستانی در مورد یک درخت نوشتم! درختی ضعیف که برگ نداشت. تنها هنرش این بود که میتوانست گل بدهد. ان هم فقط یک گل. داستانم در مورد این بود که چگونه این درخت رشد کرد و توانست ۲ تا گل بدهد اما هر ۲ گل نبود شدند و او نیز نبود شد! با خود فکر کردم که چه شد این داستان را نوشتم؟ زمانی بود که دو دوست را مانند این ۲ گل می پنداشتم. هر دو را عاشقانه دوست داشتم و ازشان نگهداری میکردم. در همان زمان پیش بینی کردم که روزی این ۲ گل از بین خواهند رفت و من درختی تنها خواهم ماند. اما هیچ وقت سعی نکردم خودم را برای ان زمان آماده کنم. و ان زمان رسید. پوسیدن را حس کردم اما از پای نیفتادم. نگسستم نرمیدم! در ان زمان فهمیدم زندگی بیش از یک گل است. زندگی زیبایی ان جنگل است!

...!با اجازه

A few years ago I wrote a story about a tree! A weak tree that it was not even able to grow leaves. The only thing that it could grow was a flower. My story was about the growth of this tree and how it finally grew 2 flowers. But unfortunately both flowers were destroyed and the tree was destroyed as well. I thought what happened to me that I wrote this story? There was a time that I had two friends and I thought of them as my flowers. I loved both of them and I tried to watch after them. But i could foresee the day that those flowers would be destroyed and i would be alone. Even then I did not tried to prepare for that. and finally the time came! i could feel the pain in every stem but they didn't brake. Then i learned that flowers are temporary. It is the forest that will last forever! The beauty of life is the jungle!

Good luck! ...

Laughter

2010-02-21T19:19:00.004-04:00

خندیدن، خندیدن و باز هم خندیدن. یک سوال : خنده چیست؟ چرا می خندیم؟ چرا خندیدن را نشانه شادی میدانیم؟ با اینکه خندیدن میتواند به تلخی اشک ریختن و گاه حتا تلخ تر هم باشد. چه میشود اگر تمامه احساسات به یک خنده خلاصه می شد و این آدمیان بودند که تفاوت را درک می کردند. چه میشد اگر ظاهر همه ی احساسات همین بود و شناخت عمیقی نیاز بود برای فهمیدن احساس واقعی یک فرد. آیا این ارزش پنهان کردن احساسات با خنده را ندارد؟

...!با اجازه

Laughter, laughter, and again laughter. There is one question: what is laughter? Why do we laugh? Why laughing is considered as an act of happiness? although laughing can be as harsh as crying. Imagine if any emotion could be expressed by a laugh and people would understand the difference. Imagine if all the emotions were a laugh and for understanding the difference you had to completely know the person. Isn't it worth hiding all the emotions with a laugh?

Good Luck! ...

The Beginning

2010-02-21T14:09:00.003-04:00

شروع! همیشه زیباترین قسمت و خوشحال کننده ترین. اما هر شروعی پایانی هم دارد. و معمولا پایان زیباترین و غم انگیز ترین است. می خواهم به عقب باز گردم به شکل گیری این درخت سیب! به زمانی که این درخت که به تازگی سیب می دهد نهالی شکسته بیش نبود. چه شد که سلولهای این درخت دوباره خود را ساختند. بله میدانم. این درخت حافظه خوبی دارد. این درخت رنج ها را بیاد دارد. اما با این حال خوبی ها رو هم از یاد نبرده. زیبایی در هر دو این ها است. زیبایی چیزی است که هر جسمی را میسازد. به قوله دوستی به همه بگویید زیبا هستند

...!با اجازه

پ.ن: ترجمه دقیق نمیباشد. ترجمه با نظر بنده تغییر میکند.

Beginning! it's always the most beautiful and the happiest part! But everything that has a beginning has an end. And Ending is usually the most beautiful and the saddest part! I want to look to the past, the time that this Apple Tree formed! The time that this Tree who can make Apples was a just a broken sapling. what had happen that the cells rebuilt it? I know what. This Tree has a really good memory! It remembers the pains. And it can also remember the good deeds. Both of them are beautiful! Beauty makes everything. Once a friend of mine said to tell everyone that they are beautiful.

Good Luck! ...

P.S: The translation is not accurate! It is based on my opinion.