The World is a Shell---Deh Bala, Iran

photos by Laila Riazi

Those days we leapt over brick walls and into secret gardens, stealing glances behind our shoulders to make certain that no one watched. Those days shower water hissed and spat unto the blue tiles, blowing hot air into our faces. We sighed because the world was carefree. It was our reality. One day the stars will shiver cold while the night coyote purrs beside the lemon tree as I swallow your sickness and take it within me to grow like a flower, damp. Remember the housemaid, bloated like rotting fruit, scraggly hairs dusted her chin and she looked at us with so much love. We gazed from atop the flat rooftop and threw unripe apples, our fruity ammunition, from above. The world is a shell, but [honey] it’s always been hell, and I’m writing (this) to you with love.