i (i) wrote,

"Imagine you are walking down a leafy path. It is early spring before sundown, around 6 PM. The sun is in the process of receding, and you are walking alone, caressed by the breezy light of the late afternoon. Then, suddenly, you feel a large drop on your right arm. Is it raining? You look up. The sky is still deceptively sunny: only a handful of clouds linger here and there. Seconds later, another drop. Then, with the sun still perched in the sky, you are drenched in a shower of rain. This is how memories invade me, abruptly and unexpectedly: drenched, I am suddenly left alone again on the sunny path, with a memory of the rain."

Azar Nafisi, from Reading Lolita in Tehran
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