The Old Man and the Park Bench

One evening I was walking through a park. My legs hurt, so I walked slowly with a cane. I sat on a bench beside the lake to catch my breath and watch the ducks dance. A young woman sat a little way off, wearing a mask over her face. “Come closer, my daughter,” I called. I saw her trembling a little, as if she were afraid. “What are you afraid of? Or who?” “I don’t know. Maybe everyone.” “Why?” “I don’t really know. Every moment I think that if I say something, someone might attack me or arrest me.” I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, “Take off your mask, my daughter. This is Iran, and the king has decreed that you are free to be yourself. “You don’t need to hide behind a mask. Being yourself is your right.” Iran, in the near future. Long live the Shah.