library

IMGP3075.JPG Do you know this feeling of encountering the perfect working space, the space were you imagine you’d be able to create the most wonderful things? (By definition it is never your own working space.) I definately fell in love with the New York Library today.

famous blue raincoat

It’s four in the morning, the end of December
I’m writing you now just to see if you’re better
New York is cold, but I like where I’m living
There’s music on Clinton street all through the evening.

I hear that you’re building your little house deep in the desert
You’re living for nothing now, I hope you’re keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You’d been to the station to meet every train
And you came home without Lili Marlene

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody’s wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane’s awake,
She sends her regards.

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I’m glad you stood in my way.

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.
Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear

Sincerely, L. Cohen

our haft-sin

Maggie made an amazing perma fish out of orange papier-crepe. This one is eternally happy and smiling. It’s new year today, at 1 o’clock 23 minutes and some seconds (i forgot). We’ve entered the year 1385. Happy Norouz.

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Suspecting that Sahar would be celebrating Norouz with ignorant friends, Elham was so thoughtful and kind to send the right words to say: Sad sal beh az in salha. I hope you live for the next 100 years better than all the years you’ve lived till now. Nor sure if we said it right though… But we did come up with a good interpretation of a dead fish for haft-sin. More than a symbol of life, it is a symbol of change and transformation and America life has brought enough transformation for the moment, so let’s hope for a calmer year…

fishy business

This space has remained blank for more than a week now, as a kind of tribute to the dead fish i suppose — in any case because i was unable to actually write down the bad news: our fish died. Sahar woke me up with this bad news on Sunday morning. The gentle Chinese man was right, and we kind of killed a fish. Reading the comments on the last entry i guess that some of you felt it coming… Yes, we got the fish in an Iranian shop. Not the nice Iranian shop we first went to, that in fact did not have any fish. Teh shop-keeper advised us to get a plastic fish. He showed us paintings of haft-sin – at least 7 symbolic objects which start with an s in Farsi – that his son made while he was on the front in the Iraq-Iran war. A soldiers’ way of doing haft-sin. Not there, but in a smaller Iranian shop with a shop keeper we didn’t really trust, who waived away concers about bowls and chlorine and water temperature and assured us that he had been keeping a whole bunch of fish for more than two weeks now.

What more can i tell you about our fish? We didn’t get to know it well, and then i’m not really sure i understand these creatures anyway. The shop keeper had put a black bag around the transparent plastic bag to make it easier to carry home, and to me it seemed that the fish needed light so we got rid of the black bag. And to me it seemd that the water was too cold, so i held my hand against the bag. Maybe that killed the fish. And as we walked home, we passed Macy’s and still needed some stuff for our Norooz preparations, so the fish visisted the whole of Macy’s from the 8th floor till the basement and back to the 8th again. Maybe that killed the fish. And then we developed a grand plan of going to Central Park after Norouz and free the fish in one of the ponds. Maybe it overheard us, dreaded the idea and committed suicide. When we finally got home and put the fish in its bowl (with declorinated water) it definately seemed anxious and restless.

Oh, the Chinese man was right. Setareh was right. Do you know what the fish symbolises in the haft-sin? Life. Oh dear.