We have to go.

Are you awake?
- Yes. Are you fine?
- I had a nightmare...I was in my room...surrounded with eyes. Thousands of them. I was looking for you. You were lying next to me.
- You tried to touch me. But I was not there.
- Yes.
- I remember that.
- What?
- It was not a nightmare. This is a nightmare. I won't remember it when I wake up.
- Don't cry.
- No, I want to cry.
- I love you.
- The way you want to love me is against the law.
- I don't care.
- fuck me.
- I can't. I can't.
- They will find us. I have to hide you. These stars are spies. Your lips. Your skies.
- Quit it. I beg you.
- Kiss me, We have to go.
- We are killing time. I know we are not going to live another day. I know everything will be over. But please...I have to tell you something...I...long to....
- Wait. Listen to this.
[ some one is knocking at the door. He has a thick, deep voice]: We have to go.

The victory of my generation

I love you, your paranoia, and your (un)well mannered ways. My love.

I feel I have to be sacrificed. I should find a way to tell you everything, in one scene, in one photo, in one sky scraping move of my two fingers that show the victory of my generation.
I have to show you everything. I have to tell you about the pain we endure in this masochistic nightmare that keeps repeating itself. They are coming. Yousef told me about the coup. Soldiers are walking with their metal boots on the streets of Tehran. For the first time in my life, I was going to vote, and I believed in my democratic rights. I believed in the bright future. We went to San Francisco, humming the songs that carried the self-created message of hope. I felt like I was in an automaton. My mere existence, the wretched illusion, had a meaning now. I had a great image for tomorrow, and the children of Iran. I could not vote. We had to wait for a few hours for a plane that would bring the ballots.

You can not vote, we have run out of...ballots.

K. checked the BBC page on his cellphone.
"It says...It...I...can not..."
- Tell me. It can not be possible.
- He is ahead. 64 percents
- No. It is not possible.
We went to K's place. I sat on the sofa, anxiously reading headlines, calling people, and watching BBC Persian. I even saw my friends on BBC's "Your Word" section. They were calling from Europe, and sending their messages and videos using their webcam. At 3 PM, I saw G. on TV, she almost could not speak. I could feel the lump in her throat:
I detest bullets, I detest violence. I had a hope for the future, but today, democracy has failed.

I have to go, we have to go take our votes back. I will look at these photos later. I wish you were here.

Tehran is beautiful these days. Drawned in the blood of the innocent, pain, and screams. But I can see the future, I am as hopeful as I was on the day of election. More hurt and frustrated, more fierce, but I know we have a path. A painful one. I can feel the immense worries in my friends' eyes. I can see the tears flowing down our faces when we see videos of demonstrations, but I know we will be victorious. I feel I have to be sacrificed. I should find a way to tell you everything, in one scene, in one photo, in one sky scraping move of my two fingers that show the victory of my generation.

I love you, your paranoia, and your (un)well mannered ways. My love.
-The way I feel about you is beyond words. Take care.

What do you think?

I play with myself. A part of me thinks different than the other one. There is one dark side which always thinks about the most twisted and macabre situations. It spurs the utter void inside me and flushes it around the abyss.
The other side is not much more positive. It observes, and observes. Eons will pass and the memory of these mental actions will remain in this universe.
Sometimes, I act so well for myself that I believe it. I believe in which I do not believe. Solely because the first side implies that what it thinks is the best.
The fact that I am writing is an act of self consciousness.
Promiscuous brains.
-Sluts.
-Bottles of Gin.
-Cigarettes. Kiss me.
-Oh Cigarettes?
- Let's make love.
- No.
- You are schizophrenic.
- I know.
- That is why I love you.
- I know.
- Can I kiss you?
- What do you think?

Infinity

"No one knew about Persian cats, except her. I have no memory of her eyes anymore. She is gone."
He was smoking a cigarette and thinking about the footsteps they heard together. Slowly and desperately getting older, more neurotic, more meaningless. He looked at his blood stained shirt, and smelled the fresh perfume on his hands. People were chanting in the streets, he had to go. She had the most enchanting eyes, he could not see them anymore. She was lying in front of him, with open eyes. Calmly breathing the infinity.

Let's get married.

I have discovered that I have been looking for you all my life.
-ok, let's get married.
- Good idea.
- It is, my love.
[She starts to laugh.]

How I got into Alphaville

The point is that there is no point in wandering around in Alphaville. The city has two parts, one for the sane, the other for the miserable. I spent six nights in the third part: Alphaville is the city of no love. The women thrive on dry tears and shaved memories. In the old times, they called it the city of the last things. I did not want to come here. I was thrown into this damned existence, this struggle for finding the lost path of...
Who cares, I am not sure. I do not have a destination anyways. What I am certain of is that Alphaville is the point of no return.