"I grew up between the nostalgia of a homeland lost, and the reality of exile. The chants outside the Islamic Republic embassy, the clatter of Persian tea glasses at gatherings of dissidents in our cramped government housing, the news of bombings and assassinations that stole friends and fellow dreamers. That haunting blend of sorrow and defiance shaped us. And now, as war darkens our skies, we feel it again: sorrow for the innocent, hope for the fall of the tormentors."
Stirring words by @NazaninBoniadi writing in @TIME
https://t.co/1yAbYR5Ki1