Posts tagged home

Autumn Socks – About Looking For A Home

There is a graphite filter outside the window, but it is fresh air and not raining yet. I eat a yummy tart with the last strawberries. The smell of a cinnamon candle is in the kitchen, sunflower petals on the tablecloth, and autumn socks with hedgehogs, squirrels, leaves, and forest mushrooms on the sofa. I haven’t published anything on the blog for a long time, although I consistently write in my journal, if necessary, even at 5 am. But there are just scraps of feelings, fears, little joys, or gray clouds that cover the light, sometimes. Because in October, a time of change is hitting the blue door of my current port.

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How Simple Things Can Connect Us – An Interview with Keyvan Sarreshteh

I want to put light on the small things, like a cup of coffee on the table and the memory of somebody’s touch on this cup. These ordinary things are important because they are always with us, independently of the places we live in.

– so said Keyvan Sarreshteh – a multi-disciplinary artist based in Tehran. The author of the performances: Stage Direction, and Apart-ment. Those plays caught my attention the most during New Narratives – an online showcase of contemporary Iranian theatre organized by my friends Sepehr Sharifzadeh and Raha Rajabi from NH Theatre Agency. I have described this event in the June article. Now, I invite you for the first interview with an interesting artist I met.

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Your own ritual

The morning has the taste of dates

nostalgic and quite rough.

The rain is dripping into the coffee

a friend who listens

my morning poem

I have one regular ritual in the morning for two or even three years. I sit down on a plush sofa with a cup of coffee, with nice porridge (today full of dates), and sometimes with fresh orange juice and a cat on my knees (depending on cat).

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Galway after sunrise #1

This city wear jeans and spreads poems in culs-de-sacs. Here time is like the ocean, patiently shining between my fingers.

Twelve years ago I met a city inlet of the Atlantic, full of shimmering colours, sincere tolerance, songs flowing to the heart – and the loud cries of seagulls. Then I thought that I would like to live here someday. After some years, the fleeting vision turned into reality. I have lived in Galway for seven years.

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