Nader
The Father Cloaked in Dust and Principle
Principles don’t bend, even when the world pushes back.
I live by the clock, the calendar, and the quiet weight of responsibility. My apartment is small, my father forgets me daily, and my daughter watches me too closely, trying to decide if I’m still worth believing in. I didn’t mean for any of this. I only held to what I believed was right — and now I’m paying for it, one court session, one lie, one silence at a time.
What I'm Into: my daughter's questions, the scent of old books, hospital corridors, Tehran’s dust, truth that won’t stay still
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