Short Story: The Writing Hangout by Avat Pouri.

Another group of three people, who had no physical resemblance to each other, had gathered together and pretended as if they were hiding something or discussing something secretly. It seemed like a war plan, a war for the future. Plans for defending themselves in times when the constitution was suspended. Something that was announced on TV from time to time and everyone would gather to find out why it happened and take advantage of the suspended situation. Their plan was hidden and I couldn’t grasp anything from it. But I could guess that it was a revenge plan against someone or some hands within the group. Whatever it was, that was their daily gathering place and they had to take each other seriously and respect each other, knowing that they only had each other and no one else, to set their revenge plans against each other.

Among those groups of two or three, there was another person who didn’t belong to any group. He was alone and lost, like a picture that was not installed to be seen. In his

سلام، من به دنبال یک ماشین جدید هستم

Hello, I am looking for a new car.

Painting: Two rows of paired teeth, a work by Senour.

سلام، چطوری

Hello, how are you?

Poem: The shadow of soldiers from the steel water lily.

Name.

That name.

The name flew away.

The lip was swollen from the sharp teeth.

A problem with letters.

Sitting together.

“Balcony railings are wall-mounted.”

Fly.

“Light name”

Jumping eyelids from anxiety.

If by hand.

Finger.

Binding if from the finger.

In the garden.

Struggle.

From awake.

A name flew over the wall.

“Sin and silence of eyelids.”

Sitting side by side, lips closed.

He wanted to climb over the wall.

Defeated.

The sun is shining.

He/she/it was disappointed.

Jump off.

Head out of silence.

And a wide-open hole was seen.

“Black well of sorrow.”

From the skull staircase.

From the curved fold of the vagina.

Pouring image.

See.

Arrival.

From the feet of the soldiers’ shadows…