I decided not to take the memoir writing course because I don't want to write my memoirs anymore.
My last name should've been Detour!
Lili Detour, sounds cool, no?
In the past week, I finished reading memoirs of an Iranian-Canadian woman who was in prison, in Tehran. I came across a beautiful poem by Sadi, a great Iranian poet. I saw a movie about a young Iranian dancer who defected to France. All of the above, out-of-my-character activities, made me sad, mad and reflective.
Finally tonight, my mood took me to a lovely terrace across from where I live. I'm sitting here, sipping my wine and listening to loud music, the kind that even my children don't enjoy anymore. All of a sudden it dawns on me that my past is as dark as the sky above me, and my present, as bright as the moon in it. So, I take a picture of my gratitude.
No, I don't want to dig into the past. Who looks at the black sky when there is a beautiful moonlight? Only the silly! I don't want to recall my sins, or those of the others. Let the injustices, the betrayals and the pain be all forgiven and forgotten. Or, at least be hidden under the black blanket.
I'm so lucky to be here, now.
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