Somehow I'd missed it this morning when I posted here on a novel.
Somehow I didn't know what had happened when I wrote those flimsy things about words in a book.
An anonymous Iranian woman wrote about the death of Neda at a protest in Teheran in the weekend: 'the very end of your last glance burns my soul'. It does.
I can't forget those beseeching, terrified eyes. The flood of blood. A father's panic.
In this video made before Neda died, you can hear an Iranian woman speak about the injustices in her country. Here are words worth hearing.
Now I am helpless with knowing.
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