The grammar of dreams.Posted: October 8, 2014
Photo: tree on the walnut terraces near the village of Kandovan, East Azerbaijan, Iran.
I read Nine Princes in Amber when I was ten. Of all the beautiful creations in that series, the best was a special kind of traveling that only the royal family of Amber could do: changing one element at a time in the landscape, like turning the sky green, and thus navigating the Shadowlands—the infinite projections of the One True World—until Amber was reached at last.
Traveling is like that. In a new place, everything is familiar but strange. The sun has shifted. The money is a different color. God is called by a different name.
In Iran, one thing shifts at a time.
There are stray dogs, but they’re as big as wolves. There are lots of public fountains, but they’re all dry. The cars are normal cars, but they swarm like a school of fish. The cranberries taste like cranberries, but they are very very small.
This is also the grammar of dreams.
Follow my travels in Iran on Instagram.