Maybe everything began from Samuel Beckett’s "Delusions", from the imperceptible weight of the head and hands standing up, from protuberant elbows, closed eyes, a very serious visage who pretends to be listening; his gaze muted, his complexion covert. So pensive he is that it seems he has spent years in contemplation and quietude or is a traveler who wishes to bear the burden of the whole train station. Maybe he is like a soldier who has fired all the bullets in his clip and vented his anger simultaneously and now is, innocently, thinking in a vacuum of his birthday. Or maybe he is so confident and unyielding like a proud, victorious and ecstatic conqueror and wishes enigmatically to get rid of himself and leave a vast void behind him.

Everything started from this slick picture who took a different shape each second to set you on tears―voluntarily or involuntarily― in an absurd labyrinth like that of onion layers to appear beyond what it really is from behind these misty eyes and ridiculous fuzziness. But the head and the hands are more telling than anything else. There’s an obvious self-revelation even in their veiling. But this picture is my picture, something between hallucination and reality.

“I will be inside you, smaller than a pebble.”

Written by: Ms. Kouhestani

Translated by: Azadeh Feridounpour