If you ask me I would say that I love Iran. Because I was born and raised there,because it was where I took my first step,said the first word and saw life for the first time.My memories are hidden in every street and every corner. My laughter is recorded in our house. The sound of every step is recorded and I can hear it even now. Noises,the cars,the construction of a building right infront of us. I can close my eyes and see myself walking on that same street of ours,to the same door,to the same brown house with the basement. I can walk up those steps again,reach the first floor and knock on my uncle’s door.Then I can walk to the second floor and then the third,ours. I can go in,there is a mirror right infront and a long carpet. I can call my sister and brother and they’ll come.
I love Iran because it is where I first learned to see how life is,its steepness and its hills.How to live with others and not hate them because of their looks,try to be friendly even if dislike them. I saw life in a different way that it is now,I never imagined someday I would end up here. I never thought that one day I would have to leave everything behind. I never thought that I would pack everything and just go. I never thought of being miles and miles away. But now that I am here and now that I am ready to live here,I can go on, I have to go on.