out of time, out of mind

sometimes you have got to break chronologies to find again those orders, those frameworks that make things work. breaking mechanics to oil that rusting machinery of our routines.

so here, out of order (because I have yet to write about time spent in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan), some shadows of three blistering cloudy weeks in a sophisticated land where I have walked mostly heartbroken and splintered, searching for some traction to these bustling, densely populated schizophrenic cities and their people. walking part whole, part covered, badly dodging the slippery greedy hands of marauding perverts (young and open-faced fellows), surprised that I have not yet learned to sense the approach of their unwelcomed pinches and strokes. (Wishing too that I had learned wushu. ba bam!)

Outside, a parade in shades of black: femininity over-baking under the sun. Having to zoom into visible details – a nose, a painted piercing eye, a delicate hand – to find the soul of the world - that beauty that lets us live.

Three weeks digesting the first culture shock for me on this journey: soul-shaking, a rocky bumpy ride – which ended only recently in a flight from the beautiful and disturbing urban centers to find refuge in the Zargos mountains among the color and femininity of the Qashga’i nomads. a breath of dance.

finally finding some footing here in Iran – this subtle, brutal, multi-ethnic, poetic place at the heart of the world and history.