The Woman’s House

The windows have been cleaned the curtains washed and hung; the cupboard polished the dishes arranged. Carpet and kilim swept clean of the bruises of past footsteps. The time for soaking the wheat and for the sprouting to begin has been sensed. Clean light has caught hold of the curtain and the curtain’s thread climbed up slid over the clip glided along the curtain rod, and dances without pause: a shining tightrope walker in the living room. Everything is ready to welcome Nowruz - every day - in the woman’s house: thirsty for water and sun ...