By Pooneh Nedai,
Editor of Shokaran Magazine, Iran
TEHRAN: I want to share a statement.
After thirty years of publishing intellectual magazines, writing serious articles, dark and critical poems, and living among sad and hopeless thinkers, I have finally reached a bit of mental freedom.
Now I realize I did not really need all those heavy mental marathons, hopeless cultural battles, and endless shouting about literature and abstract rights.
All I needed was to sit under a tree by a small river – to watch the fish move, to feel the damp moss, to hear the birds sing, to smell the rain-soaked earth.
To see the animals hunting, cats giving birth, lambs nursing, horses trotting, the wind blowing, and the leaves dancing in the breeze.
To feel my heartbeat, the blood moving through my veins, my breathing, my hair flying in the wind, the sun setting, the stars shining, and the smell of fresh bread from the oven.
To see, hear, feel, and live nature.
But instead, I am still trapped in city life – driving through pollution, working to pay bills and debts, tolerating rude people, pretending respect for the powerful, eating chemical food, and trying to keep a social identity while losing myself.
Sometimes, when I am lucky enough to be in nature, I realize how beautiful and educational it is just to watch its details.
I see how much I need silence – not to hear the news, not to know about the cruel actions of humans in this artificial world.
I could have been nothing – and happy.
But I became Pooneh Nedai – and sad.
