“How do survivors feel? Relieved and grateful, perhaps. As excited about their saved life as if it were a gift that the rustling fingers feverishly unwrap from its packaging on Christmas morning and whatever is underneath: you are happy. This… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share Image
“A normal human life consists of 500 million breaths for three billion heartbeats. That sounds a lot, but it’s not enough. You are searching: for a moment that feels better than the last. For a spark that lights a fire in your heart. For things that make you want to keep breathing: those your heart will want to keep beating… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share
“My hands would touch the weathered rock behind me: rugged but smooth on the edges it would feel and I would be wondering how long it would be until the elements would succeed in grinding it down, in wearing it off so the sea would finally get to take it away. Millions of years, I’d be thinking, with my fingers… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share
“The wrong things draw you in like the Sunday-sun the eyes. You would stare straight into it and wonder if there is something somewhere out there, other than depressing sunny days and lonely Sundays: something more. When you would take your eyes out of the sun again, you would only see red spots as if the light had forgotten them… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share
“Big discoveries call for even bigger responsibility, since they come with the biggest hazards, if they get into the wrong hands. As soon as… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share Image
“Maybe that’s what’s immanent to humanity: they strive to know and when they do they still make nothing of it. They come to know… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share Image
“How do survivors feel? Relieved and grateful, perhaps. As excited about their saved life as if it were a gift that the rustling fingers… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share Image
“No matter what you have heard: the line between life and death is not definite. Not like a wall, thick and hard to break,… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share Image
“Does a lack of life always equate to death? Perhaps it’s sometimes worse than that. For us, back then, it was. We were living… — Sima B. Moussavian Copy Share Image
