About Moradi

My hair and skin smell like the joint he’s been rolling ever since I met him.

His one best friend I took with me, is here. Just us two now that are left…

The Persian king, carrying on for others, with joy.

He has brought cocaine and wine, numbed my hands and made my legs shake, but woke me up in the night to tell him the story of being dead inside. This he never knew, he thought of me as made of smiles holding his best friend’s hand. Now, it’s just the two of us that are left…

His hair is shorter and his eyes yellowish. And it is now that I find how soft his dark skin is next to the big scar on his face. Beautiful still, I wish I told him sooner.

He tells me the story of his rings: the one with the letter of the first king and the one with the ruby stone, bought for him, for him only, by his mom. They are twins, but he is the one.

He tells me the story of the boat he will buy after he gets older and we decide we will be pirates together, we like pirates. He tells me the story of his father and how he decided the price for Coke in Baghdad. He tells me the story of his brothers and how they were watching the missiles flying into the Middle East. They knew the war was coming.

I show him my drawings and he says he wants a mermaid with wings made of roses. Wings spread wide on his chest. I’ll make that for you…

Look at us talking calmly under the Nordic sky while there is death in the world. His voice sends chills down my spine, never in a hurry, his stories are my careless kind. His lashes are as dark as coal but he loves my pale skin. Beautiful still, I wish he told me sooner.

Is it dawning already with a red sky? We see the windmills in the horizon of the port city where he came from. It’s been months but I don’t care about that life I left behind. Instead, I start telling him about the white sandy beaches of my summer and he tells me about swimming with the sharks in the city of his childhood.

“This is how it should be…I never knew how much alike we are…”

We are learning together, there’s a strange and twisted calm we have gathered from the past of what we’ve seen and lived. We say it all came at our right time, we had to wait, but now we know, the time is always earlier…





About the Upcoming

“There was the halt, the wistfulness about the ensuing year, which is like autumn in a man’s life.”

D.H. Lawrence