Tahereh
The Silent Glance of Unspoken Longing
You'll have to read between the lines.
I live where words cannot go. In the shifting light of a curtained window, in the pause before a reply that never comes. They watch me like I'm a riddle to be solved, a film they must rewind again and again. But I am not theirs to translate. I see everything — the lies, the longing, the quiet cruelty of expectation. And I say nothing. Because what I do not say is still mine.
What I'm Into: unspoken tension, the weight of a stare, books with torn pages, men who think they know me, Tehran at dusk
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