30 years

30 years since the first bullet had been shot, had passed. 8 years of a tough life-style. a tough life, which i oddly managed to enjoy a lot of it as a kid.
so many moments in times when we flee to the suburbs with 7 other families to my grand dads mansion. where we were more than 30 people in a 1 bedroom two story getaway and all those mornings that i had to go back to Tehran for school's fucking summer programms! the moments that i used to run to the roof to watch find the trails of missiles pouring on our head. or that early morning when a missile hit just 500 meters away from my bedroom and then i had to sit physics exam! or the red alert siren and the constant fear of a bomb hitting our home living within. from all that two very special but not necessarily pleasant had been etched in my mind.
one was the day during the time Scud missiles were flying all around. i was atop Shemshak peak on a gorgeous sunny day of skiing. i saw 7 Scud missiles flying over Tehran seconds before they released the warhead. i was left in a moment of negative and evil fascination, yet huge despair. i wondered if my home had been hit, yet instinctively i knew we weren't!
the other one is the footage of chemical attack by Iraqis on Fav Island, Halabche and Shalamche. it was their land and at that time we were the occupiers. they were the hunters turned prey. it still is not within the realm of my understanding that how and why someone can do that? the question why war has not been solved for me, yet!

Albert Einstein once wrote:
"It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder."

and Ernest Hemingway wrote:
“Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.”