The city is torn under a dark sky. It hunches over me, a formless hunger, a heavy, silent pressure that takes away the light. My memories are in the city, Tehran. A million spots where I stood and walked, built hope and laughed, despaired, cried, and grew numb. They are what I hold on to. An entangled layer of feelings, dark and light, flows through the space to connect my wound to my world. I exist in the gap, in the vulnerable space between breaths, fears, and hopes, forever in transition