You have been forgotten they tell me.
Leaving home, I collect my things, leave music — take no dreams with me.
My dreams are delayed like luggage that missed a connecting flight, like a shadow that can’t separate from its owner, or a dog that won’t leave its master. I find both in deserted ruins of a home in the outskirts of Yazd. The dog is nothing more than a grin and a collar under a tree in the garden, in a place that was once a kitchen or a bedroom but is now just a shadow of a home, like the grin is the shadow of the dog. |