this is a post ;)

Leoluca Family, 1916

Sadly, I have yet to visit Iran. I did a good deal of planning last year but fell into difficulties because I have an American passport and was restricted to travel only within a guided group.

Since traveling in a tour group is not my preferred method of exploring the world, I momentarily tossed my hands in the air and placed the trip on hold. Since then, I’ve begun the lengthy and tedious process of obtaining Italian citizenship through my grandfather’s line. I’m sure an EU passport will allow for much more freedom. Until then, I will dream.

Iran has moved within me since I first began to feel Islam during a six month stay in Morocco. Reading all that I have since then, and re-watching Majid Majidi films, has only propelled my heart further Mid-East–and if an opportunity ever arouse for me to live or study in Iran, I wouldn’t think twice before receiving it. I’ve been told there’s something in the soil and air in Iran that naturally turns the heart towards poetry, and this leads me to focus on nothing other than ways to transport myself to Damavand.

photo by George Gerster