The Night Shift

Shiraz, almost midnight, firsts days of january, 2020

After days of national grief in the city of Hafez: rain, markets, nighty roamings, hashish smoker who panhandle fire and bread.

We are three, we thought about going to Kerman but there the funeral of General Soleimani is going to take place.

We are somehow atracted to the idea of sumerging ourself into the crowd and be part of a cause that does not belong to us, just to taste the course of the events that, with passion and without regards for what the future will actual think, are considered historical.

After a quick reflection, and a brief discussion we thought that was wiser to avoid following the sorrow and turn our heads to the sea.

We want to reach Hormuz island.

We are improvising, we try to book last minute three seats on a night bus but everything is fully booked to virtually anywhere: we are not dissuaded, we are convinced that directly in the bus station we will find some last minute seats to Bandar Abbas.