The Vague Scent of Flowers

These beautiful, untamed wildflowers have grown tall and blocked the view of the one who constantly watches—even the photographer themselves. These desert flowers, illuminated by the flash, have stolen the landscape from us so that we see no pleasant or clear horizon before our eyes; it feels as if it is just us and these flowers, sitting face to face, eye to eye. These flowers have taken the place of the photographer of the Zurkhaneh and those self-portraits of Tehran; in the absence of the photographer, these flowers have come to say that although they are fragile, delicate, trembling, and brittle, no one is capable of picking or uprooting them, nor crushing or drying them.

And their scent fills the air everywhere.