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“A cross with a bent tip that's the Facebook logo New religion, clouds drip Grapefruit Yoko Ono A clown wears the crown for years and we celebrate Rule of law turned upside down, we tolerate I no longer know, where we headed on this path Pen my words, just forget it, waiting on the crash Documenting life, I am Mr Werner Herzog ’72 Aguirre, this is the wrath of God”

“With a rose garden blanket thrown on her legs that matched her roosari, her scarf, she ran her liver-spotted hand across her left arm and said, “A hunter in Lorestan was hunting for wild goats. He spots one and chases it into a cave. He waited outside until the goat came out of the cave. When the goat finally comes out, he shoots it in the head and it dies on the spot. He approaches the goat and sees it had a wet goatee. He immediately knew there was water in the cave. So he went inside and after a fifteen-minute drop to the bottom he discovers a carved room filled with gold. There was so much gold that he could build an entire house with it. He starts to go back to the cave day by day to collect the gold. The people in his village figured there was something suspicious going on with the hunter so a few of them followed him once. They then discovered the hidden gold too. They all agreed that since he never shared it with the rest of the tribe, he should be killed. They killed him and started to take the gold themselves. Eventually all of the villagers dispersed throughout the country and the gold was nowhere to be found. Some say it is abroad and some say it is scattered all over the country. But what do I know? I never saw it because I lost both my eyes during the war.”

“Amir then showed off his moonwalk prowess as he started to walk backward toward Tara again. Tara closed her eyes and laughed. She took a sip from her glass and said, “Divaneh!” “I am crazy. Crazy for you!” Amir said with eyebrows raised and still dancing in his spot. Tara sat on the edge of the bed, glass in hand and with the other smoothed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Did you know that Persian demons did everything backward?” she said. “Did they now?” Amir replied still dancing. “They did. The word for demons, div, comes from the Avesta language meaning ‘a spirit or deity personifying evil.’ They were creatures that wreaked havoc.” “Really?” “Yes, really,” Tara replied with a smile. “And we’ve got Ferdowsi and the old Persian language to thank for the word divaneh too.” “So are you telling me that I’m a demon?” Amir didn’t get where Tara was going as he walked back toward the dressing table.”

“Haramis.” Harami, meaning a “sinner, thief, someone born illicitly.” The word carries a lot of meaning and the Iranians adopted it as well from the Arabic language. Tara was unzipping her suitcase, ready to take some clothes to take a shower. “Tell that to a trader and he might get a chuckle out of what you said,” Tara said. “Huh?” Amir had no idea what she meant. “The word harami, it’s a candlestick pattern.” “A candlestick pattern? What are you talking about?” Amir was now even more dumbfounded. “I was bored one day so I read and learned about trading. Stock trading,” Tara said as she started to take a set of clothes out of her suitcase. “Candlestick charts are patterns used by traders to look at price movements in stocks and stuff.” She closed her suitcase up and looked up at Amir. “Harami is a candlestick pattern. It means “skirt steak” in Japanese but it also derives its meaning from the word pregnant. And it basically shows one candlestick engulfing a smaller one. A pattern for traders to analyze which direction the stock or security will go.”

“I hope at 50 I'll be dancing like Gianluca Vacchi Party, whiskey, Bellini, Martini, Bloody Maries Bad & Boujee, Tutti Fruity booty, type that really moves me Kundalini rising, energy fill me completely I hope at 50 I'll be writing books like JK Rowling Pen and paper take me places, countries far and foreign Find a cafe up in Edinburgh, write in Scotland Let the stories in my head come out, bloom and blossom I hope at 50
I'll be wealthy like Carlos Slim Buying yachts and mansions and my mother shiny things Encrusted diamond dial on a new Patek Philippe Chill in Maldives but do charity in Ardabil I hope at 50
I'll be funny like Stephen Colbert Cracking witty jokes, making everyone laugh in tears Laughter it goes round and round like a carousel Chronic comic sonic sounds of haha everywhere I hope at 50
I'll be stoic like Robert De Niro Zeno school of thought put an end to my evil ego I hope at 50
I'll be fit as The Rock, Dwayne Johnson Hard rock abs to be paired with an even harder mindset I hope at 50,
I'll be wise like Denzel Washington
Wisdom, knowledge and the faith of God under my skin I hope at 50,
I'll find real love like George Clooney
Amal Alamuddin clone is the type that really moves me”

“They reached an exit off the highway, Amir’s favorite spot in the city. The exit curves on top of a bridge and as you look behind in the side mirror, you see the future: the pristine Downtown Dubai skyline overshadowing the cranes that are racing to the sky. And right in the middle of this immaculate horizon stands the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. But as the car turns and moves, when you look ahead and in front of you, you see two mosques, each with a pair of minarets in perfect juxtaposition, a sacred geometric omen towering the roofs of the villas scattered all around. To Amir, he sees the past in front and the future behind when a car takes this turn. Now there’s a paradox.”

“No no, please please Please stop it Is this ‘cause my last name bears the name of the prophet? I don’t know no Akbar I don’t know no Ahmad So why the hell are you tying my hands and tilting my head back? Me no sign up for this Cloth warm, over my face You cut to the chase Cruciform, torturous ways I’m biting my lips Spine chills, trying to be brave So this is the place Sign my will, death is my fate”

“Her mind kept drifting to the time she read The Great Gatsby. She didn't understand the social elite then and she doesn't understand them now. They are unpredictable with no moral compass. Money is everything to them yet even Gatsby with all his wealth couldn't win over his prize possession, Daisy. No matter what he had or did, he never fit in the North Shore circle. She couldn't pinpoint what made them tick.”