Homo Oblivious
Yesterday’s “Soviet Man” has morphed into today’s “Amnesiac Man”. Homo Sovieticus has mutated into Homo Oblivious.
Grow Old and Be Strong
I watched my 85-year-old wife, hunched over her red three-wheel walker as she pushed towards the line of twenty Military Police dressed in full riot gear.
Aristo and the Friendly Forest Squirrels
Once again, we are dragged into a race between man vs. machine.
New Year’s Letter to Oksana Zabuzhko
What can we, as writers, offer a world appearing to invite another universal catastrophe, this time on an unprecedented scale?
Covering the Head to Save the Head
She had become a liability for all groups: those for whom she was too Muslim and for those to whom she was not Muslim enough.
What is a Homeland?
What I try to convince myself of is that this is temporary, and one day the hope of peace will shine on every roofless house in my country.
Folkcal Fraim 1
But where do faces come from — the places before us, the places before ageless poetry and un-aimed photography or have they not come yet?
Rembrandt Redux
18 months, 500 hours, 148 million pixels and 186,000 data points. “All that work, for this?”
Why I Became an Iranian Writer
This is how my flesh came to understand the value of a single word…
Running in Place
Was Progress, the ambition of a society to, well, improve itself, only a brief historical phenomenon that has faded like the Cheshire Cat, leaving us only a jaundiced grin (or a yellow vest)?…
Hatred of the Written Word
Hatred of the written word has taken hold of state institutions— institutions of security and of executive power…
Target Practice (Part 2)
How the people we came to help (the Afghans) could benefit from our being in Zombalay proved utterly elusive…
Home From Afar
As we spoke, I could hear the buzzing of drones and explosions in the background. The dark music woke hideous memories…
In Memory of Robert Frank
I have never seen a single mechanical mood in any of his images but I did see him, often, eliminate the split-second boundary between joy and pain.
The Breakups
Laying in a nursing home bed, losing control over everything, I just want to hurry up and be out of love.
Delayed Flights
Some works of art exert such a powerful gravitational pull they bend reality to their dreams