Life is so fragile...

While putting the second CD in the CD player, I noticed my hands. I have been told I have beautiful hands quite often. That day I thought I should be more careful about my hands, the beauty was missing...
The movie was strange. We were trying to figure out when the dream had started... Then the phone rang, it was my mother. She told me that I should go back to Iran as soon as possible. My father was too sick, and if I ever wanted to see him
for the last time, I should have hurried. It was 1:30 in the midnight... It must have been something more than that, I thought. And truly it was...

Tow days after, I was standing on a place where was the last place for my father...

I could not cry... I wished I could cry loudly... But I couldn't... His face had changed during these years... My memories of my father did not sit on the face
I had seen from him lately... But his hands... His beautiful hands with long fingers... His hands were the only image I could remember in all my memories more or less the same... I was standing there, on his grave, thinking of what had happened to his hands... I could only imagine the pile of worms, and I could not even cry...

I put the third CD in the CD player.