The prophet and Mr. X are getting here...

I'm in the office, all in black. I've had another trip in the last 48 hours, not that bad. Anyway, I am sure it is gonna come back again. Bad, or good? doesn't make any difference. It is coming.

I was just some steps far from the former house of Ayatollah Khomeini. The steep narrow allays which is typical for north of Tehran....Alborz mountains and the breeze of 7 PM in 16th of May 2004...I was talking with a girl on the phone. Around was full with the voice of Koran. She was in Dubai and I was going to be there the day after.

- Tell my mom to put my swimming suite in the stuff that you are bringing
- OK, So see you tomorrow.
- Why so early? Again you are period?
- No, I am just tired and I am fucking paying the international phone call by my mobile...I see you tomorrow anyway, why you are upset?
- Bye
- Bye

I was tired of her. It was not going well with her, because of that old bitch. I loved her, but she was not my girl. I knew that and I accepted that. She was beautiful, kind and very sexy. Type of girls that being with them give you satisfaction. You admire yourself. But it was a problem (and still is). We were too different in the way of thinking, and that old bitch, I mean her mom.

2 months after that, we broke up. I did miss her badly 5 months after, during XMAS time when I was in England, alone for a month. Such a nightmare it was. No supervisor, no research, all my dreams went to shit, and I was alone. I even cried one night for her. Anyway...

I hanged up the phone. In front of me was a group of 18, 19 years old Bassij militia. Non of them met Khomeini but he was their legend.

They didn't like me. I was sure. I didn't like them as well. I remember several times that we were bitten up by them. It was the era of reform in Iran. Khatami project, talking about democracy, Che, Bob Dylan, right of women, philosophy, poetry, quick loves, and hot discussions and hope. Hope for better days.

It was the last days of that tragic era. We had already lost the game. We had 3 choices. Leave the country, go to jail or shut up. I'd decided to leave. I wanted to see more, more, more...

I was on the door.

- Where are you going?
- I want to see Mr. Prophet
He looked to me for the second times, from bottom to the top. He told to his colleague

- Call Dr. Prophet
And he looked at me again.

- Second floor, room 54
- Thanks

I was in a small empty room. It was a bed, a desk and some books. Nonlinear finite elements, Koran and the images of Bertolucci. Very simple decoration, almost nothing. He was praying. I looked at him. He was not there. I swear that he was not there

- Nice to see you Mr. Nazemi. Sorry for the wait.
- No problem brother. I hope it is accepted.
- I hope god accepts

I was so stressed. He was the only one that I could talk to him. Non of my friends, no one among 12,000,000 samples in Tehran except him.

- Tomorrow I am going to Dubai. I want to apply for US visa.
- I hope the best happens
- You know, last night again the guy said something. It is for the second time. Do you remember the time that I applied for that conference?
- Don't worry Mr. Nazemi. You will reach the point. I know. What about England?
- I don't even think about it. I have no funding from there. After this, I will apply for Canada.
- Enshallah

I looked at his eyes, full of calm. Simple, simple man. Unknown soul for most of the people. Most of them hate him. You know why? Because he looks like a Bassiji. A bad guy. An ass hole. But he is not. He is the best person I have ever met. The most beautiful mind in math, a genius in classic Persian poetry, a good man.

He was my only escape on that day. The only only only one.

All the credit for his belief. Marx said that religion is the opium of mass. Let's agree on that. Is anyone going to ask why Dali used drug, or Winston Churchill used opium when he was 15?
We have to look at the feedback. Religion makes this guy pure. OK, it is not my way. Actually, what is my way? Math, music, bugs, darkness, love, suicide, going to a remote place back home as a teacher, bookshop, PhD, blogging, being rich, writing, what?

I don't know...I don't really know

- OK, thanks for your company. It was a nice walk.
- Don't forget the god in your interview, and I am sure the best is gonna happen. I think you should consider the Birmingham chance as well.
- I hope Colorado and then if not Edmonton. I want to be in Fort Collins. I want.
- Don't fight with your destiny Mr. Nazemi.

We shacked hands. I got a taxi and he was whispering something with himself. He was praying.

After 3 years, and exactly 3 years, he is coming today to Birmingham along with Mr. X. I will see him in 90 minutes. I should admit I am a bit worry about Mr. X. I have to talk with him, the prophet.

Let see...