Tag: by Nahid Rachlin

Bijan

November 2011

The spark of attraction he felt for Farideh could grow into a steady flame, he was sure now.

Whirlpool

By Nahid Rachlin
July 2009

The house she grew up in, with its walled-in courtyard, windowless rooms, on gray streets in Ghanat Abad, with some of the houses and shops boarded up, some damaged during the Iran-Iraq war and never repaired, and women walking around in dark shroud-like chadors, had seemed like jail.