푡 There was a time that I was writting my hometown's name on the sands, playfully competing with the waves that wanted to wash it away. Now, I live so far away from it, in the middle of an unfathombale vast meadow, far away from any mountain and sea, called Winnipeg. This, in addition to the fact that home - in the mind of a person who has migrated- becomes an abstract image far from the reality and the current state of it, some times makes the one to feel lost in the vast abyss of nowhere. Therefore, some times one feels as if his/her home has been lost on a stormy day and he/she is left only with its memories. Therefore, talking about home becomes a nostalgia for the one who has migrated. Though the poem of Margot Bickel who says "My home is no where on the map; my home is in the heart of people whom I love." is soothing. Anyway, you're welcome to look at some pictures of my home. All of the photos except one (the bird and sea) are scanned from the book called "Gilan" by photographer Masoud Kasraiean.
Gillan Province, North of Iran
Caspian Sea
A Paddy field in Talesh district
A tea farm
Another tea farm (gol-e Gov Zaban)
Scattered Villages in Janat Valley of Roodbar in early spring
Loading the boat with fishing net and going to sea for fishing White Fish
Bazar Rasht
Ramsar