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“Cold sweat, like the river streams from Mount Sabalan, builds up on his wrinkled forehead. His palms heat up faster than an Ahvaz summer’s day. His ears, his fingertips oscillate like the Thousand Daf festival in Kurdistan’s Sanandaj, the sound of a thousand Iranian tambourines.” — Soroosh Shahrivar
Cold sweat, like the river streams from Mount Sabalan, builds up on his wrinkled forehead. His palms heat up faster than an Ahvaz summer’s day. His ears, his fingertips oscillate like the Thousand Daf festival in Kurdistan’s Sanandaj, the sound of a thousand Iranian tambourines.