It’s Christmas tomorrow!

Have a fun Christmas :)

All the bests for 2009!

فردا (پنج شنبه) روز کریسمس به همتون مبارک باد. کریسمس از روزای خوبیی که مال همه ست، بهانه ایه که تو این اوضاع نابسامان دمی از غصه ها فارغ بشیم و برای لحظه ای هم شده خوشحالی کنیم. مطمبنا غم ناراحت نمیشه و تا روز بعد منتظرمون میمونه

After the incident!

To Saeid

Some people never forget to smile, no matter what. Others around them are so LUCKY!

 فیلسوفی گفته: خوشبخت کسی است که دوستان دوروبرش در هر شرایطی کنارش باشند و بهش لبخند بزنند. اگر هم که فیلسوفی تا حالا اینو نگفته، هیچ غمی نیست! من الان گفتم

Happy Eid e Qorban

نیشابور، ایران

امروز ایران عید قربان را جشن میگیرد، در صورتی که بیشتر نقاط دنیا (از جمله انگلستان) روز قبل رو عید گرفتند. دلیل این اختلاف را هیچوقت نفهمیدم. باری، عیدتان مبارک

Eid Qorban is one of the festivals celebrated by Muslims. Happy Eid Qorban :)

Trapped = دردام افتاده

Be carefull what you are flying into!

کی میدونه پایان راه کجاست و چطوریه

آیا ماهیها هم لبخند میزنند

Cell-phone photography at its happiest :D

A pond in Badab Surt (Iran) with some strange fish.

حوضچه ای با ماهیهای عجیب و غریب

I don't even know you!

So, how do you want your eggs?

نیمرو یا خاگینه

Work of art

The picture is taken in Stockport, UK (Autumn 2008)

Creation in its artistic mood has transformed nature into a canvas to be crammed in with colours. Take time to look around before the eraser of winter rubs all these off!

طبیعت باری دگر به جعبه مداد رنگی عرش دست یافته. زمانی را برای تماشای آثار او کنار بگذارید قبل از اینکه پاککن زمسنان به این نقش و نگارها دست یابد

عشق بیخ ریشِ صاحبشه

[The picture is taken in Wales, UK]

شاید عشق عُصارۀ دوست داشتنه
شاید خود پرستی، خود را سُتودَنه
کسی چه میدونه شاید علتِِ ندامته
یا لحظه ای اشباع شده ازسخاوته
اصلا نوریک شمع تودشتِ ظلمته

هرچی که هست خیلی دلرباست
مثل رقص قاصدکی توی هواست
عطرش بوی بارش زردِ اقاقیاست
رنگش سرخی پرچم ایران ماست
اما آغشته به انواع ناخالصیهاست

خاصیتش شور و شوق و گیجیه
یک نافرمانی یک جور سرپیچیه
تو دنیا برای آدما حکم یک کاچیه
اونهم که ازقدیم گفتند بهترازهیچیه
اصلا نبودنش کشمش بی نخودچیه

ولی نمیخوامش، رفتم که بفروشمش
بگذارم، آبش کنم، بنوشمش ebay تو
جاش یه پالتوبخرم که بشه بپوشمش
یا یه گاو که صبح به صبح بدوشمش
اما کسی نخریدش. نمیشه که بکشمش!

بازبرگشت خورد وآمد نشست بردلم
انگارقسمتمه که سایش باشه روسرم
گفتم میشه بری تا منم برم پی کارم؟
گفت "فکر نکن که من یک سربارم
بگذارراحتت کنم: توآهنگی ومن تارم

This poem was first published on Iranian.com
http://www.iranian.com/Shahireh/2007/May/Eshgh/index.html

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© All rights reserved

Big lies :)

...Finally we managed to discover the legendary cave.

We all started to dig for the treasure (or, at least this was my impression). I was working harder than anyone else. We finally managed to find something; by this time, I was covered in dirt & was encouraged to go & find some water to wash my hands before opening the treasure chest.

[Photo taken by Hamed Parham ]

When I returned there was no sign of "my friends" or the treasure! Only a couple of Polaroid photos; they were laughing at me.


Now my search continues, to find my "friends" and claim my share of the treasure.



Alderley Edge, Cheshire (UK)

سالگرد

از ورودت به دنیای من دقیقا یک سال می گذرد. هرچند که خورشید اشغالگرحضورت گویا قرنهاست که بر سرزمین وجودم پرتوافشانی می کند. دریاها بینمان فاصله است ولی افکار و تخیلاتم چنان مرا با تو پیوند میدهند که گوئی تار و پودِ نقشی از یک قالی را به هم می بافند. از زمان برخورد اولین نگاهمان تاکنون کره خاکی یک دور به دور خورشید گشته و من هزاران بار به دور تو. شوق زندگی از حرارت وجودت در کاسه دلم می جوشد و به تمامی زوایای جسمم سرازیز می شود. باران برکت دوستی توست که حس سوزانی را که به کرات مرا از ادامه این راه برحذرمی دارد بی پروا خاموش می سازد. نمی گویم که یوسف گم گشته ای بودی که به کنعان دل باز گشتی. نمی گویم که جز نجیبانه با هم گفت وشنودی نداشتیم. ولی خواسته ها و نیازهایم در تو معنی پیدا می کند چون چیزی در وجودت با روح سرگردانم همخونی دارد. با من بمان، بازهم بمان و بازهم بمان

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Helping hand

[Picture is taken in Alderley Edge , UK]

Falling down is not an issue when there are people around that would help you up.

افتادن سقوط نیست وقتی دیگران دستت را میگیرند، البته به شرط آنکه دیگران خودشان روی زمین لغزنده نباشند

:D :D :D

This is LiFe

Life is full of moments like these:
[The picture are taken in Jangal Abr (Cloud forest) in Iran]

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Try
سعی
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Hope
امید
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Disappointment
ناامیدی

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But don't worry too much, one day you'll get a good picture, too

:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

چه بی کلاس :D

عکس از نگاره

اگربه کتاب فرهنگ جواتیسم و آسیب شناسی رفتاری و حرکتی رجوع کنیم و نوشته های آقای الیاس پیراسته را قبول داشته باشیم، میتوانیم این عده دوستان رانیز جواتی بخوانیم. البته خود بنده نیز در این جمع هستم ولی از این قاعده مستثنی میباشم. چرا که فقط به قصد خیر نجات غریقی وارد آب شدم و لاغیر

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لازم به تذکر است که این نوشته ها یک شوخی یوده؛ امیدوارم که دوستان این جسارت بنده را ببخشند. هیچگونه قصد بی احترامی به شخص یا اشخاصی در بین نبوده

A clever suggestion

Looking through the pages of an in-flight magazine, I came across an article on ways to combat jetlag. I started reading it with interest; after all if there were ways to avoid jetlag or even shorten its recovery period I had to know.

The article contained some useful hints, e.g. setting your watch according to the destination time soon after boarding the plane. It looked promising; I carried on reading and soon I got down to the last suggestion listed. Travelling first class was the ultimate suggestion! (To be fair, it said something to the meaning of: if possible travel first class).

At this point I put the magazine away, and tried to have a nap. I was a bit cross with myself for not thinking of this wonderful solution for myself!

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© All rights reserved

Today is "The international day of PEACE"

World peace might be nothing more than a farfetched dream today; but maybe one day our future generations get to experience world peace outside the borders of dreamland.

روز جهانی صلح

http://www.internationaldayofpeace.org/

تولد یک شعر

مثل بیشترشعرا، حسا س بود و خیلی زود دلگیر میشد
تو مینی بوس هم گویا باز دلش گرفته بود
به حالت قهر رو ضندلی ردیف جلو نشست
وسعی کرد که با خودش خلوت کنه
شعر می نوشت
غافل از آنکه دوروبرش رو کسایی گرفته بودند که
سرشون برای مردم آزاری درد می کرد
قسمتهایی از شعر رو تو دوربین یکی از دوستان دزدکی خواندیم
دقایقی بعد خلق شعربه پایان رسید
بعد ازاون هم، خلاصه بگم یه جورایی شعر نصیب من شد
منم این شعرناب رو ضمیمه یکی ازعکسام کردم
http://www.flickr.com/photos/shahireh/2766375177

اینم شعرنگاره، حیفم اومد که اینجا ازش حرفی نزنم

من سیمای باغ سرشتم
جاده تسلیم من است
و گلم شاخه ی آفتابگردان
من طلوع از تپش نور هدی می گیرم
تو نیاشی به خدا، به خدا میمیرم
شیوه عیش تویی، مشربم لعل لبت
بید مچنون جانم، سرو من باش به امید
که تو را سوی بقا میکیرم
دل به دامان تو رفت، بوی گلهای ندا
تو گل باغ شمالی، آری آن یاس عدم
یآس من از بر و بویت نیست
دیوار بلند است و دست دلم از در کوتاه کوتاه

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Potential Murder in the name of a photo opportunity (to Mostafa)

… “GET DOWN, we want to eat dinner!” This was the command that we finally obeyed after ignoring it for a few minutes! On the way down, from the hill, a little ladybird was discovered by Mostafa [http://www.flickr.com/photos/mimshimi]; in his wisdom he decided that the ladybird would look better on a white daisy nearby. I hardly managed to take one photo of the created scene, before being pushed aside by a group of other descending photographers in our group.

Considering the dense mist around us, I don’t know how they managed to spot this photo opportunity! Anyhow, after a short while we arrived at the meeting point. Only to discover that we had to clime up the hill again, as it was decided that where we were originally was a better spot for picnic!

I don’t know if anyone remembered to put the subject back where we got it. But I hope the contrast between the vivid red and the bright white that attracted photographers was not as effective on birds or bigger insects! Otherwise, we all have a murder to answer for.

Hunting the hunters

Edle, Uk

There is something rather unique about capturing photographers in action. For me the vague sense of hesitation that usually accompanies photographing people fades away when the subject has a camera.

عکاسی از عکاسان در حال شکار سوژه یک چیز دیگه است

It made me smile :)

In our garden

http://www.schmap.com/guidewidgets/p=63013860N00/c=SG31162922

I was delighted to see one of my photos of St Ann's church selected for inclusion in the second edition of the Schmap England Guide. See the photo here.

برای دیدن یکی ازعکسهای انتخاب شده من از کلیسایی در منچستر اینجا کلیک کنید

The Lying Shepherd with a modern twist

Inside the car was hot and humid. Despite it being early evening and all four windows wound down there was no breeze. The car was standing still as the traffic had been brought to a complete halt by an accident in the motorway. He was furious and kept on imagining himself being chocked by his tie even though he took it off some time ago. For him, in that moment, there was nothing more agonizing than being strapped into the seat of his car which was condemned to stand motionless despite its engine running. Time lingered; his blood boiled over and over. His eyes were constantly scanning in all directions for a sign of movement as if life itself depended on that.

He decided to phone Sara and let her know that he could not meet her in the restaurant at 8:00, as planed. He reached out for his jacket which was on the back seat of the car and took his mobile phone out of its packet. The battery was exhausted. He recalled the annoying interment beeping sound of the mobile as he set off earlier. At the time, he wished that he could turn it off. Of course, that idea was soon abundant, as reaching out for his jacket whilst driving was silly. Instead he turned the radio on to mask the irritating beep of his mobile; but exactly when the warning sound stopped he could not remember.

His mind started to wonder; how would Sara react to him being late again. Would she forgive him on hearing about the state of the road? He had no control over the situation and Sara was a reasonable girl; but the memories of last night’s argument made him doubtful. Today’s meeting was meant to be his final chance to prove that he was not as unreliable as Sara said.

He felt unsure and angry. In his mind he started searching for a solid reason for Sara's low opinion of him. He might have told a few little lies, but Sara calling him a deceiver was taking things a bit too far. "Women!" he said to himself "irrational!". He recalled someone telling him that in the original version of Cinderella, "the ugly sisters" cut their toes and heal off to fit into the Cinderella’s shoe. "Irrational" he said to himself again. He could not let go of his prejudice and his degrading view. . Women wear shoes that even looking at them makes your feet ache, he thought, wearing those does not fall too short of chopping your toes off! At least in the Cinderella story females were making sacrifices in order to get the prince and live "happily ever after". The efforts made by some women today seem so aimless, though. They just want to live up to certain expectations which are dictated by some and followed rather sheepishly by others. He was still busy thinking when he realized that the road was gradually getting unblocked as the cars started to move. "Thank God!" he said loudly. 

Eventually he got to the restaurant; but he was over half an hour late. He parked his car somewhere near the restaurant, on a double yellow line, and rushed into the restaurant. Sara was not there. He tried phoning her from the public phone, but there was no answer. He went back home thinking that he would ring her later to explain as she might still be driving back. On arriving home he was exhausted and fed up, the first thing that he did was to check his messages on the answer phone; there was none. He put his mobile to charge; he noticed a text message from Sara “we are finished”, the message read.

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یک پیغام کوتاه

بعضی اوقات پیغام دادن هم خیلی سخته، طفلک قاصدکها که همه عمرپیغام رد و بدل میکنند

I couldn't write what I wanted you to know! But the dance of fluffy white seeds of dandelions will be the courier of my message to you.

نامه سرگشاده به سنگ صبور

 عکس: شهیره
 کتاب: برگزیده اشعار نادر نادرپور

باز امروز دلم از نا آشنایی ها گرفته
از رفاقت و صحبت با بیگانه ها گرفته

با وجود توفانی خموش درچشمانم
بغضی سنگین هنوز راه نفس را گرفته

حس دوری او که نزدیک پنداشتمش
هیجان زندگانی را از لحظه هایم گرفته

بی اعتنا یاری که حتی آشنا نیست
بلایی است که امروز ما را دامان گرفته

(3oth April 2008)

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13 bedar

The 13th day after the arrival of the Persian New Year (13 bedar) marks the end of the New Year festivity for people who celebrate Nuroz (see the link below). In preparation for the Persian New Year seven symbolic items (they start with the letter “س”, one of the Persian alphabets) are normally gathered. “Sabzeh” is one of them. It is the collection of seeds grown into a green mass (to symbolise life and regeneration).

'13 bedar' is the day of nature, when people spend time outdoor. 'Sabzeh' is also returned to the nature in this day. It is customary to tie the green stems of the 'Sabzeh' together for good luck, happiness and success (in particular in finding the right man!). 'Sabzeh' is then thrown away in the water, wishing that bad luck would go away with it, too.

This year we spent our '13 bedar' in Tatton Park (Cheshire, UK). The spirits were high despite the fact that this year's '13 bedar' was a wet one!

For more informationon Nuroz:

http://sharp-pencils.blogspot.com/2008/02/spring-is-upon-us.html

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Good, evil and my soul!

بدون شرح

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آرزوی تحقق یافته

سبزه امسال

دیشب شب چهارشنیه سوری رو به طریقه معمول جشن گرفتیم، یک شب خوب و پرخاطره بود. مثل خیلی از ایرانیها ازایام عید خاطرات زیادی دارم، یکیش درچهارشنیه سوری چند سال پیش اتفاق افتاد.
اون روزها هنوز دانشجو بودم و سخت درگیرنوشتن نتیجه آزمایشی که باید روز بعد تحویل استاد میدادم. تا نزدیکای سحر سرم به کار بند بود. تا سرانجام حدود ساعت سه صبح "ن" پایان نوشته شد. خسته و گرسنه، ناراحت از اینکه مراسم چهارشنیه سوری رو ازدست دادم رفتم سر یخچال که چیزی بخورم. چشمم افتاد به شیشه سس گوجه فرنگی. یه فکر بکر زد به سرم ، ازاین بهتر نمیشد! شیشه سس رو کف زمین گذاشتم، چند بارازروش پریدم وگفتم، "سرخی تو ازمن، زردی من ازتو". صد التبه که لطف پرش از روی آتش چیز دیگه ای هستش ولی یه جورایی احساس می کردم که حداقل پیش اجدادم روسیاه نسیتم و رسوم ایرانی را به جا آوردم!
روز بعد از خواب بیدار شدم، حس کردم یه چیزی رو صورتم سنگینی می کند. توی آینه نگاه کردم. یک جوش قرمز روی گونه ی چپم زده بود، به قرمزی سس گوجه فرنگی

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دوچرخه سوار

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صدای زنگ دوچرخه آمدنش را نوید داد. از پشتِ پردۀ تورآویخته شده درمقابل پنجره، که وزش هر نسیمی را با لرزشی پاسخ میگفت، نگاهش کردم. با همان ژست همیشگیش مشغول قفل کردن دوچرخه بود، با مهارت خاصی به کارش پایان داد و وارد ساختمان شد. نگاهم او را در تمام این مدت در احاطه داشت. پس از آن هم حرکاتش را در ذهنم دنبال کردم. بدون عجله و یکی یکی پله ها را بالا می آمد، عادت نداشت نردۀ پلکان را لمس کند. با حساب من الان باید پشت در ایستاده باشد. صدای زنگِ در فرضیه ام را تایید کرد. در حالیکه به سختی می توانستم اشتیاق بیمارگونه ام را پنهان کنم فاصلۀ پنجره تا در ورودی را در ثانیه ای طی کردم و با دستی لرزان در را گشودم. با چشمان سیاهش نگاهم کرد. نگاهی که مثال موج خروشانی که در هنگام برخورد با شنهای ساحل هنوز میل یاغیگری داشت، وجودم را بی پروا ازهستی تهی کرد. چنان غافلگیرانه توانایی زیستن را برای لحظه ای ازمن سلب کرد که برای استراد مجددش راه مناسبتری جزتوسل به نفسهای تند و سطحی نیافتم. در جواب تقلای محسوسم برای برزیستن لحظه ورودش فقط لبخندی زد و وارد اتاق شد

سلام و درودی بین ما رد و بدل نشد. گویی علی رغم آنچه احساسات به غَلیان آمده من حکم میکرد هر دو باورداشتیم که از دیدار قبلیش تاکنون هنوز این اتاق را ترک نکرده! مثل همیشه روی مبل کِرم رنگی که فاصله اش تا درورودی نزدیکترازبقیه اثاثیه اتاق بود جابجا شد. سر صحبت را با جمله ایکه چندان هم به حقیقت نزدیک نبود باز کرد. حرفهایش به سنگریزه های بستررود خانه ای میماند که با تکه های طلائی حقیقت مخلوط بودند. هرچند هیچوقت نیازی را به غربال کردن حرفهایش حس نکردم چون همۀ کلماتش برایم قیمتی بودند و دوستداشتنی. با مَکثِ کوتاهی رشته کلام را به من سپرد. من هم با همان دستپاچگی همیشگی سفرۀ دل را برایش گشودم درحالیکه مواظب بودم که با حرفهایم موجب ملولیش نشوم

تفاوتِ بین ما فقط درحقیقت داشتن یا نداشتن گفتارمان یا ارزش آن برای یکدیگرخلاصه نمیشد، نقاط مشترک انگشت شماری داشتیم و دید و بینشی کاملا نامُتجانِس. با این حال کشش شدیدی را نسبت به او احساس میکردم که حتی دَرکش برای خود من نیزدشوار بود. با پایان یافتن جمله ام از جا بلند شد و به سمت پنجره رفت، به بیرون نگاه میکرد. به نظر میامد نگران دوچرخه اش بود یا شاید با این عمل داشت مرا به ادامه سکوت فرا میخواند. کلیدِ قفل دوچرخه را که از لحظۀ ورود دردست داشت درانگشتانش فشرد. آیا می توانست به من نیزاینگونه که به دوچرخه سواری وابسته بود علاقمند باشد؟ شاخه گلی را که از میان گلهای داخل گلدان سوا کرده وبا لبخندی تقدیمش کردم بی اعتناء از من گرفت و روی میز گذاشت

آماده رفتن میشد، میدانستم که مشغلۀ زیادی دارد و دیدار امروزمان نیز بیش از چند دقیقه به طول نخواهد انجامید. مثل همیشه از بدرقه کردنش اِمتِناع کردم. چشمانم در آزمون تحمل رفتنش همیشه بازنده بود. اگرچه درحضورش نیز هرگز قدرت نظاره گری معمول خود را نداشت و چون تشنه ای سرگردان که به بزم سرابی میرود فقط وقایعی را میدید که زائیده تخیل بود. تنها با رفتنش دنیای واقعی اطراف شکل میگرفت و اشیاء جراتی برای اِدِّعای وجود میافتند. نگاهم به شاخه گل روی میز افتاد، آه! گلش را فراموش کرده بود. شاید از درکِ ارزش هدیه ای که به نحوی به دوچرخه سواری مربوط نمیشد عاجز بود و برگ سبزتحفۀ درویش را حقیرتصورکرده بود. به هر رو واقعۀ مهمی نبود و جز ثانیه ای ذهنم را بخود مشغول نکرد. نیاز به چند نفس عمیق و یک قهوه غلیظ داشتم تا مستی حضورش را چاره کنم. مستی که بعد از فروکش کردن غوغا و هیجان دیدارش کم کم جای خود را به لبخند و رویای شیرینی میداد که تا روز آینده همراه من خواهند بود. امروز نیزمعجزه ای دنیایم را غرق در نور و رنگ ساخته و حس زنده بودن را درمن بیدار کرده بود. آیا فردا نیز به دیدارم خواهد آمد؟ برای فردا بیتابم و برای دمی که با من سپری میکند سپاسگزار. نمیدانم و نمیخواهم بدانم که تا خاموش شدن این شعله و فرا رسیدن لحظۀ خداحافظی چقدر فاصله مانده

Spring is upon us

The combination of snow and yellow rusty leaves next to fresh, green growth, representing past, present and future. It is one of the simplest forms of contradiction that I've photographed.

On Thursday 20th March (2008) at 05:48:19am Britain will enter spring. This is the exact moment of the arrival of Nuroz (a variety of spelling for this word is used: norooz, noruz, norouz or nowrooz). Nuroz (the Persian New Year) celebration is about being in harmony with nature; a festivity that does not nurture a particular religion, ideology, background or belief. Another factor that adds to the potentially unifying feature of Nuroz is the fact that it arrives simultaneously in the entire northern hemisphere.

Nuroz has been traditionally celebrated as the triumph of light over darkness and as a new beginning in synchronization with nature. In preparation for its arrival and as a sign of regeneration:
- houses get makeovers and are cleaned thoroughly (something similar to spring cleaning practice)
- thoughts and appearances are reinvented [old grudges are forgetting about, people normally wear new clothes, too (the former is usually less conformed to than the latter!)]
- broken links in relationships are mended; family and friends make time for each other.

Outside Iran (excluding countries which celebrate Nuroz such as Afghanistan) Nuroz arrives whilst jobs, schools and other day-to-day commitments carry on as normal .

This year, however, Nuroz coincides with the Easter break. This makes it easier to focus on celebrating the arrival of spring; I cannot wait!

Whether you celebrate Nuroz or not, have a fantastic spring!

[Follow the link below to work out the exact moment of arrival of spring in your area: http://mamali.soheyli.com/Nowrooz]

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It's called Persian Gulf

(I came across this stone in Tenerife)

The persistence of some of the international media for referring to the Persian Gulf as the Gulf demonstrates the fact that they don't know or don't want to use the correct, historical name of the Persian Gulf. But this contagious “ignorance” (let’s just call it “ignorance”, for now) has recently moved up a level.

If the first level of the “ignorance” was to delete the word Persian from the Persian Gulf, the second level is to replace it with another word! This is the phase that we are now in. Seeing a recent petition [http://www.petitiononline.com/sos02082/petition.html] protesting against the wrong name for the Persian Gulf that was used by a major virtual globe programme motivated me to write a few lines.

I am very surprised that we even need a petition for requesting a mistake to be corrected! Correcting the wrong data entry should not need petitions. Mistakes of this nature should have not occurred in the first place. If the wrong data is entered it falls on people responsible for maintaining the database to rectify the error as a matter of urgency. The level of staff competencies and the organisation’s safety nets for prevention of such wrong doings in future also needs to be assessed by the independent external bodies.

Considering misrepresenting of the name of the Persian Gulf has now reached an epidemic, a “conspiracy” theory is also lurking in the background (this might even suggest the exchange of money for the favour of falsifying data). At the moment I would like to accept the “ignorance” theory and to think that using the wrong name for the Persian Gulf was just a mistake that will be corrected soon.

Some of you might think that this is only a trivial matter and specific to people with ties with Iran. In this case, I would like to ask what your reaction would be if you refer to a world map only to discover that the Irish Sea is called the English Sea and the Gulf of Mexico is the Gulf of USA!

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Shahnameh Ferdowsi

The picture (Legend = اسطوره, Originally uploaded by Shahireh) shows one of the 19th century stained glass windows of St Ann's church, Manchester, UK.

This image reminds me of Sohrab, one of the legendary figures of Shahnameh (translated as The Book of Kings). Shahnameh is a Persian epic written by Abu'l-Qasem Ferdowsi in the 10th century. It is one of the world-famous literary masterpieces and is translated in many languages. Many original copies of the book exist in libraries throughout the world; yet, it remains unknown to most of the English readers!

According to Charles Melville (2007) Shahnameh holds the record of the longest poem written by one author (it contains 50,000 verses). The same source also indicates that the first illustrated version of the book dates back to 1300. The illustrated versions contain the miniature paintings some of which are masterpieces in their own rights.

Shahnama Project aims to produce an electronic collection of painting of shahnameh manuscripts and to promote the study of shahnameh (what took them so long?). More can be read about Shahnama Project by visiting their site:

http://shahnama.caret.cam.ac.uk/shahnama/faces/text/about-project.html

[I've named Shahnama Project as I am aware of their work; please feel free to add other sources in the comment section.]

Reference:

Charles Melville (2007) Shahnama Project

http://shahnama.caret.cam.ac.uk/shahnama/faces/text/about-shahnama.html

Accessed on 22 Feb 2008

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A play: Expensive Parenting (To Atusa)

(I took this photo in Cheshire, UK, 2007)

(Scene, A bedroom with a door at the back, on the right corner, leading to the hallway. On the same side there is a built in wardrobe covering the wall. On the opposite side, a double bed is positioned against the wall in the middle. Two small bedside tables, each with a lamp on, are placed on sides of the bed. In the left-hand wall a big window dressed with a pair of flowery pattern curtains meeting in the middle. An exercise bike is positioned next to the window and is covered with clothes. The floor is covered with a beige carpet partly covered with a small red rug in the middle. It is early morning.

The mother is sitting on the bed, resting her back against the headboard. On the bedside table near her there is a coffee stained mug placed in an empty plate. She is in her pyjamas and is typing away on her laptop which is placed on a pillow on her stretched out legs. Her eyes are red, she is yawning. A crying sound is heard from the hall way. Enters the daughter with tearful eyes, sobbing.)

MOTHER (with a worried look, whilst putting the laptop away) What is it? Are you hurt?

DAUGHTER MUM...! Tooth fairy has forgotten all about me!

MOTHER (she remembers) What? Oh God! Tooth fairy? I forg…Don’t cry (she seats her down beside herself on the bed). Maybe tooth fairy had too much to do last night? I am sure she comes tonight. You’ll see.

DAUGHTER No! No! You don’t understand. Tooth fairy always comes on the first night. Everyone knows that. She is not going to come. I am the only person in my class that she has forgotten about.

MOTHER (looking guilty) Don’t worry, honey. Not all tooth fairies are the same, just like humans, we are all different. This one might prefer to come on the second night. (She thinks for a second, her eyes sparkle) I know! Tooth fairy is waiting for you to wash your hands and face. I don’t think she likes to see children crying. Why don’t you wash your face and then recheck under your pillow?

(DAUGHTER looked puzzled, but leaves the room hesitantly)

(MOTHER in an anxious way, she looks around, throws a jacket on the floor and finds her hardback hanging from the handle of the exercise bike. She takes her purse out of the bag and empties its content on the bed, in a panic. She realizes that she has no coin. She grabs a £20 note and runs out of the room. A few seconds latter she is back. She looks pale and panting. She sits on the corner of the bed and starts putting the content of her purse away)

DAUGHTER (from outside the room she is shouting, YES, YES! She enters with a big smile on her face.) Mum you were right. Tooth fairy was waiting for me to wash my face. Look mum, look! She has given me lots of money, not coins like what she has given to my friends. Look!

MOTHER (sigh in relief, and hugs her daughter) I know honey, I know. I told you; this fairy is different!

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The taste of photography

(my camera and I)

My first real joy of photography came about in 2006, when I bought my first digital camera. Gradually, photography turned out to be more than just a hobby or a way to unwind. It became a creative outlet and replaced my interest in other forms of Art (in particular pottery).

As well as learning about photography itself, taking images has provided me with opportunities to practice skills such as understanding perspectives, negotiating skills, problem solving and networking. Additionally the medium has made me more aware of the surroundings. Holding a camera in my hand equates to having a third vision. Through the lens of the camera I can see new details of familiar sites that I had failed to see previously.

The medium also works very well as a means of communication. Photo-essay is my favourite way of storytelling or conveying messages that without the aid of images would have been less effective and tricky to express.

With recent advances in photo-sharing programmes (e.g. Flickr, owned by yahoo), it is not difficult to share the passion and learn from others. Photo-sharing can potentially be a learning method just like any other peer reviewed process. Having the chance to view the work of many great photographers from the comfort of your own home can be a convenient replacement for visits to art galleries.

For amateurs like me, having one or more of your photos selected by others as favourite, can be a confidence booster. On the downside, joining a community such as Flickr can easily turn your hobby into a competition! Although, not taking disappointing comments, lack of views, etc. too seriously helps you to keep on enjoying sharing your photos and experiences with others.

My verdict? Digital photography is a detoxifying, yet addictive experience. Have you tried it yet?

To see my photos visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/shahireh

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