Khesrau Behroz



Those unbearable moments of someone disappearing, or worse, someone disapproving of appearing. It’s a different kind of sadness. There’s a certain detachment from whatever one is surrounded with when her body is somewhere else but still permeating every fiber of your being because moments ago you talked, laughed, missed. But if you go to sleep without her voice in your head, well, what is there to rest from when nobody echoes in the chambers of your mind? Instead, details keep you awake: the wind blowing, the rain dropping, the Imam, suddenly, calling.