Barbad farahani
Samstag, 20. März 2021
خودشه ها، دیو ماست
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this photo is a poem lines long, it is worth a lot, as much as if i were to hide in a brothel with lin and coco and yen for say 6 months? no daylight, only experiencing the night, until someone says i am here. red like back then, loyal and powerful, faster than an eagle and soft as a feather. there is never anything sadder than the inner dragon in a coma, just a breath of breath
In the 70s at the age of 24, my uncle DAVOOD bought a house with two floors and a yard in southern Tehran, through bookselling and antiques trading, his knowledge was unlimited, it started: he smokes opium, he smokes heroin, he is addicted , he is a bad person. Ultimately it was all because of this: no one in the family had a son like Davood. nobody is from our tribe. all were poor until the age of 50 or until today
Son of the bitch in Iran, has become an organizer too with the Iranian government, instead of reducing this fascist country to powder after 25 years of holocaust secret camera system, Iran blackmails Austria to continue the action. That is also the reason why I am alive, Dirty fucking luck in a dirty fucking miserable situation
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