It Takes Courage To Die For A

Imagine You Are Walking Down A Leafy Path...the Sun Is Receding, And You Are Walking Alone, Caressed By The Breezy Light Of The Late Afternoon. Then Suddenly, You Feel A Large Drop On Your Right Arm. Is It Raining? You Look Up. The Sky Is Still Deceptively Sunny...seconds Later Another Drop. Then, With The Sun Still Perched In The Sky, You Are Drenched In A Shower Of Rain. This Is How Memories Invade Me, Abruptly And Unexpectedly.

Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Belittle A Work Of Fiction By Trying To Turn It Into A Carbon Copy Of Real Life; What We Search For In Fiction Is Not So Much Reality But The Epiphany Of Truth.

I Finally Returned To Iran In 1979, When I Got My Degree In English And American Literature, And Stayed For 18 Years In The Islamic Republic.

When I First Left Iran At The Age Of 13, Iran Had Become Such A Shining Star - It Was The Point To Which All My Desires And Dreams Returned.

I Believe That It Is Only Through Empathy, That The Pain Experienced By An Algerian Woman, A North Korean Dissident, A Rwandan Child Or An Iraqi Prisoner, Becomes Real To Me And Not Just Passing News. And It Is At Times Like This When I Ask Myself, Am I Prepared - Like Huck Finn - To Give Up Sunday School Heaven For The Kind Of Hell That Huck Chose?