It's Tuesday in the wee hours of the morning. Everyone has gone to bed, exhausted. The days are long and wearing the hijab weighs heavy on all of us, especially in the 90-degree heat. The stories also weigh heavy, but we have not yet met anyone who thinks it might be possible that Bush could drop bombs on them. It is really beyond their imagination.
They consider themselves to be much stronger than their neighbors, Iraq and Afghanistan. They consider America to be weak and Bush to be the terrorist of the world. They love Americans and know it has nothing to do with the people of America. However, they don't trust governments.
It was a pleasure to leave Tehran and the unbearable smog for the second continuously inhabited city in the world, Yazd. Here, our nights and days are spent being lost in a labyrinth of alleys, with delightful meetings in lush gardens, under mosaic turrets and the smells of roses, honeysuckle and ancient history. The stories of life here continue to be full of contradiction, mystery, beauty and sadness. Seeing an American here is a strange and rare event. We are enjoying their warm welcome and the generosity of their stories. Off to Isfahan in the morning...
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