Yazd
We have started handing out copies of our letter to the Iranian president, building up a public position within Iran. One local paper is publishing the letter. Next step is to get it published in a national newspaper in Esfahan. TV in Tehran. Meetings with youths in Yazd. Handing out pins with the flag. It is turning into a symbol of a nameless revolution. Hashem is putting up a website with the flag as logo. A symbol for change, for the new – all form, no content. Is it possible to achieve anything of substance on the level form? Outside Yazd on a mountain knoll, two figures in contrast, one tall, one small, could be seen at dusk raising a flag with a hole in the middle. Iwo Jima.
The two men are no longer disguised. Always in full uniform they stand out from locals like decadent Martians. They wear the counterrevolutionary emblem, the necktie, and yet they carry out a revolution.
People like foreigners. When one says he wants to commit suicide, they respond ‘Denmark! Milk!’ When one says that he is making a revolution, they respond ‘good luck with your revolution!’
Meetings in the streets with students -- all tense and nervous, eyes flickering, scanning for police. One claims that ‘they’ are watching us perpetually. Handing out hundred copies of the letter – four police cars pass by without stopping to the surprise of the students.
This morning – a huge demonstration – children in the street outside the hotel, teachers as shepherds, like the Day of Sports in secondary school, chanting ‘down with America’ – as they notice the foreigners on the sidewalk they wave and call out ‘Hello Mister!’
The two men are no longer disguised. Always in full uniform they stand out from locals like decadent Martians. They wear the counterrevolutionary emblem, the necktie, and yet they carry out a revolution.
People like foreigners. When one says he wants to commit suicide, they respond ‘Denmark! Milk!’ When one says that he is making a revolution, they respond ‘good luck with your revolution!’
Meetings in the streets with students -- all tense and nervous, eyes flickering, scanning for police. One claims that ‘they’ are watching us perpetually. Handing out hundred copies of the letter – four police cars pass by without stopping to the surprise of the students.
This morning – a huge demonstration – children in the street outside the hotel, teachers as shepherds, like the Day of Sports in secondary school, chanting ‘down with America’ – as they notice the foreigners on the sidewalk they wave and call out ‘Hello Mister!’
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