Regret-free

Nine-year-old Guiv Ghalamkaripour performs a piece in Shour on his Setar. He lives in Brussels, Belgium, where he was born and raised.

I walked into that space one last time and I looked around. Everything I needed to take was already moved out. I grabbed my bag, my coat, and my roosari, walking toward the door. I turned around and looked one last time. I stood there, trying hard to see if I had any feelings for the place. I had memories of old feelings, but no present feelings about it. Nothing in that great space looked familiar or dear anymore. It was as though I had never been there, as if I had never belonged to it. I turned again and pulled the door shut. I dropped the keys in the messenger's palm, and pushed the elevator button. When the elevator door opened, I stepped inside without a glance backward and I haven't looked back since. My business has never been the past. It is here and now, doing my very best for it, giving it my all, and feeling its joys and pains to their fullest. Once I move on, if I ever look, it is to the future, never to the past. The past is where I once did my best and gave it my all. Whether it was good enough is immaterial now because it's all done now, so I won't dwell, doubt, and deliberate over my past. For the person who had asked me about it, this is how my life is "regret-free." When you are sure you have done your very best, there will be no regrets.