Goodbye, My Country
Translated from the original Persian post. The cover image is an editorial visual for this page, not an image from the X post.
I looked out the window.
A Turkish song was playing in the car.
No one spoke.
We were nearing the airport.
I was still in shock, and I could barely catch my breath.
Was this the last time I would see my country, Iran?
Would I never breathe its air again, walk these streets so full of life?
Would I never again smell fresh bread in the lanes?
Would I never hear the fruit seller calling out the season's first harvest?
I hate goodbyes.
I hate the end of something I love.
I hate being forced to leave.
Goodbye, my country...