He has built himself a room in the center of the world, surrounded by a wasteland of sand and wind. Perhaps now and then, when he goes up on the
Dear Reader, I did not write the story of “Waking and Dreaming” to teach you a lesson. My intention is to make you more familiar with the children of my
As dusk began to weave its shadowy carpet across the sky, Hasmik pulled the brim of her hat down to cover her eyebrows and pulled the collar of her cloak
1 Dear listeners, think about the eternal truths that lie before us. Examine your conscience. The world stands on the edge of an unknown precipice. In these turbulent times, people’s
![Buried Alive [Zendeh Be Goor] By Sadeq Hedayat](https://alisalami.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Sadeq-Hedayat-300x169.jpeg)
My breath escapes me in ragged gaspings, tears run from my eyes, a bitter taste lingers in my mouth. My head spins, my heart clenches, my body lies exhausted, beaten,
Amidst the sweltering winds that whipped up the hot dust and sand and slapped the travelers in the face, the unyielding sun scorched and melted everything in its path. The
Homayoun muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper, “Can it really be? Is it conceivable? So young, she lies there in Shah Abdol Azim among thousands of other departed
I wake up in Delhi to the cawing of a crow perched on a willow branch, to the dance of light on the shadow of a dream, to the scent
Who should I greet now? The lady principal has left us, Haj Ismail has disappeared without a trace and my precious daughter has become the prey of wolves in the
