Rain, Rain

Tehran's autumnal rain. More photos in the series by Abolfazl Salmanzadeh, Fars News Agency.

The windshield wipers squeaked across, losing fast to the pouring raindrops. The old Paykan wasn't well-insulated, so I could hear the rushing water running under the car, the huge raindrops hitting against the roof, and I could feel the cold wind finding its way into the car, reminding me of how safe, warm, and dry I was sitting in the back of that cab. I was going home, where someone waited for me in a warm environment. The apartment felt cozy and welcoming, with the delicious aroma of home-made food filling its every nook and cranny, and a fire burnt in a fireplace. I took off my scarf and raincoat, washed my hands, and sat to good food and good company, friendship and peace, and love and understanding. We sat by the window, watching the rain, and I felt safe for I was in the company of old, deep, and unpretentious friendship. I miss Tehran and I miss Mandana.