7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

Literary critics never took it as seriously as it deserved. But Esmail Fasih, regardless of being ignored, stood firm, wrote and left important works that will remain in the history of Iranian literature. was born Listening to the stories that his sister read out loud made him fascinated by stories and literature. Along with studying in high school, he got a job for himself. Immediately after receiving his diploma, he went to Paris and America through Turkey with savings and the inheritance he received from his father. After graduating from the University of Montana School of Chemical Engineering, he moved to San Francisco. There he married Annabelle Campbell, a young and beautiful girl who died in childbirth along with their child.

BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

Literary critics never took it as seriously as it deserved. But Esmail Fasih, regardless of being ignored, stood firm, wrote and left important works that will remain in the history of Iranian literature. was born Listening to the stories that his sister read out loud made him fascinated by stories and literature. Along with studying in high school, he got a job for himself. Immediately after receiving his diploma, he went to Paris and America through Turkey with savings and the inheritance he received from his father. After graduating from the University of Montana School of Chemical Engineering, he moved to San Francisco. There he married Annabelle Campbell, a young and beautiful girl who died in childbirth along with their child.

After struggling with depression, Fasih returned to Bozeman, Montana, and immersed himself in work. It wasn't long before he dropped everything and went to the University of Michigan to study English literature. It was there that he met Ernest Hemingway, the famous writer and winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature: "The Department of Language and Literature of the University of Michigan invited him. Finally, one day Hemingway came, sat in the yard, but you did not come. He sat there on the grass and talked. Students and professors were sitting in a circle in front of him. It was a sunny spring day. This memory may be worth recalling, although with sadness. A friend and I were sitting in the front, almost next to Hemingway. He was wearing military shorts, a sport shirt and sandals that day. Everyone would ask a question and he would give a short answer, a little wearily. I was only oblivious to him and his words and voice, which was thin and delicate for such a strong man who loved hunting and shooting. Robert Jordan, the protagonist of his great novel, "For Whom the Bell Tolls" had adapted it from a university professor. In the last minutes, when he wanted to get up, he took a deep breath, looked around and left."

The grief of losing his wife and child and revisiting bitter memories made him abandon his studies in the field of English literature and return to Iran. . On one of the days of 1342, Najaf Daryabandari offered to translate. But he preferred to work for the oil company. Thanks to Daryabandari, he got acquainted with Sadegh Chubak, the head of the administrative affairs of the oil company, and the preparations for his teaching at the oil company's industrial conservatory were provided. Farsi was published in Franklin Press. The collection of stories "Khak Ashna" was published in 1349 by Safi Ali Shah Publishing House on Pishkhan Bookstore. The novel "Blind Heart" was made available to fans in 1351 thanks to the efforts of Rose Publications.

His simple and unpretentious style made his works attractive, readable and popular. He introduced the urban middle class and their relationships into the Persian novel. Fasih, who was successful in attracting general and special audiences, used his life experiences in writing and creating characters.

In this article, you will get to know the seven novels of this prominent author.

The book "Telkhcom"BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

"Telkhcom" is one of the stories related to the oil company. In this novel full of details and accurate descriptions, an educated man who is worried about his sister Faringis arrives in London after flying for hours and passing through Abadan, Tehran and Paris to buy a special product for the oil company. There, he sees someone he doesn't expect.

In a part of the novel "Talkhkam" by Ismail Fasih, published by Mendanaviz, we read: Meh, I will go to Tehran on a company flight and of course I will spend the night with my sister Ferangis and her young and beautiful daughter and her widow... who have always been my only and best loved ones in Tehran. (Soraya's very young husband, Khosrow Iman, who worked in the organization of the program, was martyred in the demonstrations and bloodshed before the revolution.)

That night, after greetings and kisses and greetings and talking for a while, we had a zarshakpelo dinner. We eat with chicken. In the midst of dinner and conversation, Frangis jumps in: So a week's mission in London which would you like

No, Abji. I loved America.

He looks at me. Then he says: I know... that you left your higher education and youth and your first love and marriage there.

Remember it well. For now, I have to stay in Paris for a day to get a British visa... because I got a flower at the British Embassy in Tehran.

Frangis turns his head, looks at his lamp and says: Paris for my dear child for the same years. It was good.

Yes, I remember.

Sorya does not raise her head. He is sad and doesn't say anything. I remember, before the revolution, during the prime ministership of Imam Sharif and the bloody strikes against the Shah, when the young husband of Soraya Khosrow Iman was killed in the massacre of 17 Shahrivar, we took Soraya to the university for mental rest and away from the turmoil and to continue his doctoral studies. We had returned Sorbonne to Paris, but after the revolution and the situation was a bit tense at the beginning, Soraya had returned to Tehran due to her mother's loneliness, although she still had her passport and her five-year visa to get a doctorate degree.

I say: Soraya. John, it's better to go back to France... it's better for you and for Frangis, Jan, who is doing well and his mind is getting easier these days. It's down.

I say: Go, dear, please. You have a visa.

He shakes his head slightly downwards.

I say: Before the revolution and the time of the Shah, we had the British consulate and the American consulate side by side in Khorramshahr, in We had a street on the banks of the river. Whenever we wanted to go to England or America, we gave our passport to the company's transportation department, and one of his employees would take it from Abadan, and in the afternoon, he would bring the passport with a visa stamp and put it on our table. And we went for work and fun. And now I have to go to the British Embassy in France to get an administrative visa. Where is Khorramshahr, where is Paris..."

Buy Tarchkam book from BingMag

The book "Winter 62"BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

"Winter of 62" is a readable account of the war years. In this novel, the suffering, sadness, fear and problems of Iran's war-torn society in the sixties are depicted. Jalal Arian, a retired professor of the oil faculty, along with Dr. Farjam, a computer expert, go to Ahvaz to find Idris, the young son of his employee who went missing in the war. A dead woman who comes back to life in the eyes of Idris' fiancee and Jalal Arian's fake marriage with a young girl to save her from a fanatical and sick man are told.

In a part of the novel "Winter 62" by Ismail. Fasih, published by Mindanavez Publishing House, we read: "Two bearded guards knock us down in front of the hotel door, greet us, and let us in. It doesn't look good that we came to blow up the hotel.

But the story comes to this, for Dr. Mansour Farjam in Fajr Hotel, from the travel affairs of the oil company, or from the equipment, training, and human resources, or from nowhere. No more reservations. No one has heard the name of Dr. Mansour Farjam in the hotel information. The hotel attendant behind the counter just says that they didn't fill out the reservation card in his name.

This part of the hotel hasn't changed much, the big counter, the big telephone switchboard room next to it. Inver's box office, a stylish attendant with a shaved head and face, behind the counter a few telephones here and there, there is only a photo of Ayatollah Beheshti on the column in front of the counter and a large framed photo of Ayatollah Khomeini standing and raising his hand against the blue sky. , to the wall behind the counter...

While I'm standing and looking, Mansour Farjam, with a pipe in his hand, is explaining to the information counter operator that he was told in Tehran that a room has been reserved for him in the Fajar Hotel and it's "OK". . In addition, they said that if any problem occurs, he should call the brother of Anarchy Nami. He shows the phone of Anarchy's brother, whose calendar is written in elegant Latin letters in the corner, to the hotel agent. He is probably the only creature talking tonight in the Islamic Republic of Farglasi, and he knows how to put the words he wants to emphasize in quotation marks. The counter operator's brother is still patiently answering.

Sir, we have brother Anarchy... whenever they have guests, they either come by themselves or fill out a reservation form and send a card.

Well.

They didn't send anything to this name.

Mansour Farjam says behind him: "They didn't send it to another name?" ... Maybe the names are wrong, maybe they said Dr. Farshad or Dr. Zargham. My name is sometimes wrong on the phone.

We had three passengers from the oil company.

The hotel attendant patiently tries not to get angry. Abdullahi's brother, Dr. Afshar and Izaei's brother, who brought cards for all three.

Maybe Dr. Afshar made a mistake? Can you check?

Dr. Afshar has come. They checked in, went upstairs. All the guests of the oil company's travel affairs have arrived. That's it.

Mansour Farjam turns and looks at me. Yati Bahshaki luck. But he still has a smile. Then he turns to the information officer and says: Do you have a telex device?

What do we have?

Telex... If you were requesting a reservation from Tehran to the south, a copy will be sent to you automatically.

The hotel attendant takes a deep breath: our telex is broken.

I say to Mansour Farjam: Doctor, call yourself and find this anarchist brother, he is everywhere.

I guess we have to. He says this in English.

He turns to the information operator and says: "Could you take the trouble to get my brother Anarchy's phone for me?" . He doesn't care about us. Dr. Farjam calls out. insists The hotel attendant finally relents and after he ends his call, he turns to the room that is apparently the telephone switchboard, and says to the sister who is there: Take Anarky and connect it to one of the phones in front of the counter for Haj Agha.

Mansour Farjam smiles and thanks. We will wait. But the phone Anarchy doesn't connect, or doesn't answer, or the switchboard sister doesn't try at all, we don't see what she's doing in the switchboard room."

Book "Raw Wine"BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

"Raw Wine" is the first novel of Ismail Fasih published in 1347 Shed tells the story of a young man named Jalal Arin who has just returned to Iran. His sister lives in the south and his brother is hospitalized. After returning to Iran, on the one hand, Jalal is involved in the ups and downs of affairs at his workplace, and on the other hand, he has to take care of his sick brother. , we read: "That autumn, I had rented a small house in Zafaranieh, two or three streets away from Pahlavi Road. It was quiet and cozy. The building of the house was old, but the water and electricity were in order. I also bought a few pieces of furniture to meet my needs.

The building was two-story and was made of red Bahmani bricks. It had five rooms, but I only used two of the rooms on the lower floor. From the windows of the upper rooms, the snow-covered mountains of Alborz could be seen. But I rarely went up. Because I had nothing to do.

Beside the cracks and cracks of the pit and the oval in the middle of the building, there was a large garden, almost dry and deserted. The yard (which was once used as a large pond or pool) was now overgrown with grass and weeds. Tortoises and hares lived in the pit.

Every evening, of course, Yusuf's visit was inevitable. Yusuf was a sixteen-year-old boy at that time, but at the same time he was sick, sensitive and awkward. He had a white, thin and matte face, big brown eyes, a thin nose and a messed up pen. His mental illness was diagnosed by Dr. Bahramain Paranoid Fix. Another young doctor, who was a cardiologist, treated him for rheumatism of the heart. Severe pains in the joints of hands and feet were always there. He had a fever. He was terribly thin and small. It weighed 25 kilos: the same weight as an eight or nine-year-old child.

Yosef is reading a book. He liked Russian novels and Iranian poetry books very much. I often bought it for him. In the first days when I took him to the institute, the situation was terrible. The development of rheumatism of the heart had disturbed all the arteries of the heart and the tube of the esophagus and larynx, putting pressure on his brain. His sinuses were also suppurating. His nose often bled. He didn't even talk to me much. Later, from the books he was reading, and the relatively logical things he was saying, I thought that he is not mentally ill. Only his body was seriously ill. His soul seemed to be in an extremely sensitive, poetic, and even spiritual state.

As usual in the evenings, after work, they stayed in front of him for two or three hours. On Friday mornings, if the doctor allowed, I would take him out with me and we would go and have lunch in the city or in Tajrish, then we would go home and listen to music.

I was completely alone that autumn. From the high school boys, those who were drinking with me, now most of them were either from America or England. One of them, who were in Iran, were working in the oil company in the south.

One day, about a month after my return, I met Nasser Tadjed in Mokhbar al-Doleh Square. I couldn't believe it at first. The last news I had about Nasser was that he was studying at the Sorbonne in Paris. Seeing Nasser in that lonely world opened my heart. I met him on the sidewalk in front of Ibn Sina's bookstore. He asked about my life and my wife in America. This question caused a burning sensation in my chest. I had tried to forget for a long time. I openly said that my wife died in America. img src="https://bingmag.com/picsbody/2210/25302-5.jpg" class="content-pics" alt="BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored" title="BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored" loading="lazy">

This novel narrates a story that sometimes takes the reader to the heat of Abadan and sometimes makes him a guest of Paris cafes. While two months have passed since the war, Jalal Arian leaves for France to take care of the condition of his niece Soraya, who is in a coma. This trip brings him face to face with Iranians living in Paris. In this work, Fasih talks about the artists, politicians and soldiers who left Iran after the revolution. Despite depicting the conditions of Iran and Iranians at that historical moment, he remains neutral and allows the reader to judge the characters and their behavior. which was published by Mindanavez publishing house, we read: "Late autumn 1359, a cold Tuesday, around two in the afternoon. At the entrance of the terminal, on the northwest side of Tehran's Azadi Square, peddlers, handcarts, and bus passengers are huddled in the middle of dust, diesel fumes, noise and honking horns. Two toman skewers.

- Mr. sandwich. Egg sandwich

- Sir, let me... pull it aside

- Beans. Eat beans

- oranges. Sukan Shaheswar's property.

- Nan Shirmal. Just take it.

- Hit the side of the cart.

- Winston. Sigar Sir

- Biscuit. Give me a biscuit.

- What are your lips?

- Hamburger, Sausage, hot sandwich.

- Mr. hand bag.

- Don't worry father

- Woolen socks. Woolen gloves and hats. Special for traveling.

- Fresh tea

- Give way, sir, give way, brother.

Some of them are on a pint or carton, or on a table, on the floor. , quieter corners are engaged in business. One sells Berber bread and cheese. One sells boiled eggs and lavash bread. Someone sells a few nylon bags, seeds, pistachios, almonds, dried berries, figs, chickpeas, raisins, and scallions in a corner. , and it is still practically a desert. Only some corners of it are covered with tarpaulin tents. Apparently, buses bound for the north and northwest and even Turkey and Europe depart from here.

In the northern landscape, under the blue sky and white clouds, you can see the snow-covered and clean mountains of Alborz. Ahead, a series of long, interlocking buildings of several stories, gray and white, interrupt the view. These are buildings in the style of New York's skyscrapers, which are now standing on dirt and unfinished, since before the revolution, original and false in the middle of the autumn wind and empty and war-torn space. For example, there are residential units - the same Lego toy blocks that a child has piled on and then half-asleep, they are collecting dust and dirt behind the terminal area. Still ahead, all around inside the dirt area, in the corners, several tarpaulin tents have been set up, each of which is a field organization of a travel agency. In every corner, a cooperative has grown from the ground like a mushroom after a rainy night. Behind the tarpaulin tents, buses pick up and drop off passengers.

Most of the people are from the city or displaced people or just people like me, who have become homeless for some reason. Turks, Kurds, Ler, Khuzestan Arabs, Jangzada, etc. are everywhere. When I enter the compound, in this corner, some soldiers with dirty beards and mustaches and disheveled uniforms are drinking tea. Three Kurds, in baggy trousers and a military tank top and Pichazi turban, are sitting in a corner smoking Winston cigarettes. An Arab from Khuzestan with his wife, mother and six or seven children are all sitting dumbfounded and doing nothing.

I find the tarpaulin tent of the "TBT" station - cooperative number 15 - which is the first tent on the left, and I go. Inside. In a corner, they have made a field bar. In its corner, a piece of cardboard with a marker declares: "Travellers of Istanbul". It is quiet in front of Pishkhan. I present my ticket. They mark my name in the existing list without checking it. I don't have enough luggage to hand over for luggage. So the ticket control officer allows me to take my bag and hand bag on the bus.

The bus is a relatively neat Benz Dulux 0302, but it is not ready to go yet. Even though the door is open and the driver and the student are busy tying the luggage on the roof of the car. A tall man with a soft curly beard and mustache and a respectable white leather hat that gives him the appearance of "Esho Zarathustra" and has a lot of luggage is talking to the driver. One of the larger suitcases has burst and he is wrapping it with rope. I help it and the others up, and the tall man thanks me. Then I stand in front of the tent near the entrance of the terminal and light a cigarette and wait.>The book "Bade Kohen"BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

In this novel, the course of human spiritual evolution is clearly narrated. Dr. Kyomarth Adamit, a specialist in cardiovascular diseases from U.C.L.A. and a retired professor at Pahlavi University in Shiraz, has two children, divorced his wife, published several academic books and works at Tehran Clinic Hospital. Now he is going to Abadan to start the cardiology department of a newly established hospital in Abadan, to find a new life and partner there. Ironically, one day he meets a lady named Pari Kamal who is a laboratory technician and wants to cooperate with the doctor to equip the hospital more. A woman who lost her husband in the war and now lives with her mother. As its name suggests, the perfect fairy has the temperament of fairies and is in search of perfection. He takes the doctor with him on a spiritual journey and brings back all the forgotten spirituality to him. The story takes place in 1370 and in the atmosphere of war-torn Abadan.

In a part of the novel "Bade Kohn" by Esmail Fasih, which was published by Mendanaviz Publishing House, we read:

"When you fly The Fokker Charter of the National Iranian Oil Company started the process of lowering the altitude and landing at Abadan Airport. The doctor, who was looking at the twisting of the Karun River in the dry desert from the small oval window, felt a butterfly at the end of the column. His spine is stuck and he wants to rise. But as if it was not a butterfly, it was a coiled snake "Kundalini: the base of the spine of yogis.

This was probably the effect, or the continuation of last night's dreams, or too much alcohol and pills recently... last night in a garden or Golestan. It was half burnt. A woman spoke to him from a yellow flowered and old chair in the garden, angrily and with stinging sentences: All these people who hate you and hate you. They leave, they don't know you the way I know you. Selfish, promiscuous, cheating... Don't let me say things in front of your children that you can't look in their eyes anymore. The truth is that you belong to the bazaar of Kalabasali. Dr. Kyomerth Admit. Dr. Gurmerth, the person of America, London and Paris, he did not get the mean spirit of Kalabas Ali.

You don't hear or understand all his words and stings, although throughout his married life these accusations and bad mouths when he used that way He was coming up. He had heard. He only knew where they were together. Hell.

But Dr. Keumerth Adamit, fifty-five years old, today, with a handsome head and face and clothes, a specialist in cardiovascular diseases from U.C.L.A University, America, on the morning of Friday 4th of February 1370, on the next chair The Fokker Chic window was apparently not in Hell. Although he seemed a little depressed. He also felt overwhelmed. He was a retired professor of the former Pahlavi University of Shiraz. Separated from his wife and two big children, the author of several medical-university books, and a doctor at Tehran Clinic Hospital... these days, he has a temporary contract and the right to pay for specialized services in bad weather areas, for the reopening of the National Company Hospital. Abadan oil and the establishment of the cardiovascular department went to this island under reconstruction.

One of the doctor's friends, who worked for the National Iranian Oil Company, and himself traveled to Abadan every two weeks on a satellite plan. , made him sure that the situation in the oil company is now orderly and relatively good. Anyway, Dr. Adamit planned to spend two and three months of spring in the tropical region in the famous Abadan, beautiful memories, in its best seasons, like South Florida, in a satellite plan. At the same time, I would like you to work for Jangzdeh city hospital. Especially since he didn't mind being away from the crowded Tehran and the dirty and polluted air, to do his backlogged writing work.

In a corner of his brain, he had a small desire that if he could be with a hot nurse girl or a clean widow, a He should have an official temporary marriage, get into a good mood, and when he comes back, tell his friends in the lonely nights. And he saw the ruins of the war along the Khorramshahr-Abadan road, he felt half pride and self-satisfaction - a feeling that was suddenly new and unusual."

Buy Badeh Kohn book from BingMag

The book "Captive of Time"BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

The novel "Asir Zaman" which is affected by the atmosphere that prevails in Iran after the revolution, deals with the life of Jalal Arian and narrates his life from 1342 onwards, when he returned to Iran from America and taught at the oil company conservatory. And it goes until the end of 1366.

Arian with a gifted student B Ali Veisi's name is familiar. A student who soon attracts the attention of his teacher and establishes a friendly and sincere relationship with him in a short time.

During the outings and friendly occasions, Arian learned about the bitter events that happened in Ali's childhood. And he understands that he is against the imperial regime and has secret activities with a group of people. Meanwhile, Ali Veisi's life is disturbed by the presence of a Savaki captain named Nafisi who lives in Ahvaz. Nafisi is a middle-aged, money-loving and fun-loving man. His language and behavior are slang and cheesy, and in this situation, he has a crush on Shahnaz Ganjoipour, a young girl. Shahnaz, who is a contemporary of Ali and his love, rejects the offer of marriage. With the aim of getting Shahnaz, Sarvan imprisons Ali and the girl's father on false charges.

In a part of the novel "Captive of Time" by Ismail Fasih, published by Asim Publishing House, we read:

>

"That year, with the activities of teaching and conducting intensive specialized programs in Ahvaz and Suleiman Mosque, I did not find another opportunity to hear much about the lives of Shahranaz, Major Akbar Nafisi, Ali Veisi and their family members. During a program at Suleiman Mosque, and many nights of playing Ariani with a widowed lady typing teacher from Liverpool, I also find kidney and liver condition and ldl and liver sgot very high, which takes me to the hospital. When returning to Abadan in a company car, with a stupid accident in the middle of the road, my shoulder and shoulder on one side of my tall body are broken. I have to go to Terhan for six months in autumn and winter during sick leave. This trip is also mixed with other personal problems and conflicts... which, according to Mustash, the French moustache-seller in the movie "Irma Khushgole" of these years, is another story. Gardam, in the middle of the letters from all over the world that are stored in my house and in my office, there are two greeting cards. As usual in the years of Khuzestan, one is from Ali Veisi in Ahvaz, and another one is from Shahrnaz Nafisi, from Abadan with an English signature. It's just a sentence at the bottom of the greeting card that makes me think again with all my mental preoccupations: Dave is going to be transferred to Ahvaz. Thirteenth of Badr, what a day of filth, impurity and dirt on the head.

He probably doesn't know that I haven't been in Abadan for six months. Maybe it is the side effects of the onset of mental disorder, or it is probably the thirteenth of Farvardin that he was transferred

Dr. Habibian is still working as the head of administrative affairs of the college, and one night when I was talking to him, he confirmed that his colleague, Lieutenant Colonel Nafisi, is going to be the head of the police force of the Khuzestan State Security Organization. He left Ahvaz, and in his place a person named Timsar Khavari came to Abadan, who I hear is a good person.

I don't remember whether it was the 15th or 16th of Farvardin that I, with the help of Habibian and Dr. Karmi, the head of the faculty, through The personnel and administrative affairs of the company will arrange for Ali Veisi to come to Abadan. After the interview, he will be given a job in the supervision of the dormitories and places under the control of the faculty, maybe also the deputy supervision of the laboratory buildings. I myself talk to him on the phone in the Ahvaz Conservatory office. I say it should come, it is for everyone's benefit. Of course, he is still single.

I remember well when the day comes... Ali Visi is Kot Abdullah Airport. Friendly, sincere and good. Only inwardly he is puzzled by my request to transfer him to Abadan. Physically, he has now become a man of his own, although with a slender figure, a gentle beard and mustache, and eyes as clear and sharp as ever - and full of the mystery of the battle participation system.

I have an hour free. Between two classes, he comes to my office. He greets and bows, and after shaking hands and kissing, I say: Sit, welcome to Naft Abadan College.

He sits where Shahrnaz was sitting that day, and says: Eye, Mr. Engineer... seeing you, your words, your existence is always good and amazing.

I say: listen. Today or tomorrow, Colonel Nafisi will be transferred to Ahvaz and head of SAVAK, and I think you should come here and accept this job offered to His Highness. We talked about laboratories and the entire university environment. I have no doubt that you will fit into the position."

Buy the book Asir Zaman from BingMag

Book "Blind Heart"BingMag.com 7 novels to read by Ismail Fasih; The author they ignored

The novel "Blind Heart" is one of the most famous works of Ismail Fasih. This work was published in 1352. In this book, the author has gone to the life story of the Aryan family. They live in the old neighborhood of Darkhungah. Hassan Arian is one of the famous local shopkeepers and has a large family. The youngest son of the family is Sadeq. One night, Sadegh receives the news of the death of his oldest brother, Mukhtar. After hearing this news, he struggles between different emotions such as confusion, sadness, sadness, joy, remorse, hatred, etc.

During the book, we accompany Sadiq and learn about the history of each of We get good information about Aryan family members. The story is divided into two parts. The first part is related to Sadiq's childhood. In the second part, we go to his youth and see different memories and events from his point of view.

In a part of the book "Blind Heart" by Ismail Fasih, published by Alborz Publishing House, we read:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *