خدايا فقط تو را مي خواهم. باور کرده ام که فقط تويي سنگ صبور حرف هايم. مي ترسم از اينکه بگم دوسش دارم. اون نمي دونه که با دل من چه کرده. نمي دونه که دلي رو اسير خودش کرده. هنوز در باورم نيست که دل به اون دادم و اون شده همه هستي ام. روز هاي اول آشنايي را بياد مياورم آمدنش زيبا بود . آنقدر زيبا حرف مي زد که به راحتي دل به او باختم و او شد اولين عشقم در زندگي. بارالها گويي تو تمام زيبايي هاي عالم را در چهره و کلام او نهاده بودي. بار خدايا دوست دارم مرا بفهمد حتي براي يه لحظه.

Pending is a most sinister word. Firstly, at the level of form. Nobody uses its root word,. It is an ever-looming sleep depriver which constantly breathes down your neck, like a Nazi on a suspected Jew. The sound of it, too, can replace tick-tock any day. It trespasses the hallowed halls within your mind like the grandfather clock in The Masque of the Red Death.

Saturday, March 6, 2010. the Land of Friendship? I was listening to podcast on NPR today talking about memory and time, and why time seems to move faster as we grow older. The fact is, no one knows why, but they did propose 3 different theories. One that seemed relevant to me was the idea of memory building and the exposure to new things.