The strict dress code has, after all, influenced my attitude toward clothing. In Kyiv, after living in Tehran, I began to prefer simple and comfortable things. Comfort became more important than the desire to please everyone; I no longer wanted to attract attention on the street.
At the airport, we were met by an old friend who immediately asked, "What is there to miss in Iran?" I don’t answer—I know he wouldn't believe me anyway.
Setare—that was the name of the grandmother who had won our grandfather’s heart. From the moment Ismail first met her, he knew he would marry her. But Setare’s wealthy Turkish parents disapproved of the match. To them, Ismail was just a poor young man—kind, sincere, but not worthy of their daughter. Despite this, the young couple began meeting in secret.
The grandfather's story began not far from the city of Tabriz, in Shabestar — at the crossroads of the Great Silk Road, near the salty shores of Lake Urmia. It was there that Mir Ismail was born.
His childhood unfolded among orchards and mountain valleys. Youth thundered in soon after, and before long, the song of young manhood began to play.