(To my mom)
My life appears to me as unnatural, uncertain and incredible as the shape of this surface that my numbers have just created. It seems that the numbers have been a painter, perhaps so perfectionist, to make this fine fine detail of chaos. Now that I look at this artistic design of fake virtual plateau of life, it seems so familiar; perhaps it is because of this design that I write or maybe this design makes me write.
You know your son very well and I know my numbers, my feelings very well. There is no reason for your tears although they are the most beautiful birds in my life. Make them free in a real nice shiny sky, not a day like tonight.
Life is all game as you reminded me. Linguistically, mathematically or psychologically. I am still willing to play, to be winner or a loser.
I love you.
1 comment:
amoo ali,
my bro is here, and be mangoft ke ali salam resund, agha man mokhlesetam be mola.omidvaram to ham be andazei ke man alan khoshhalam , khoshhal bashi.
don't know what you did to make your mom cry, i think this is a sign. get up, stand up and shake yourself form everything.
and "happy new year mate" wish you were here and we could celebrate together :D
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