Reading a page of a book out of thousands and millions of pages is, for us, like looking through a window on brighter side of the world that is constantly calling us, tempting us to set on a journey with the frigate of a book for more and more adventures...

The Swimming 

The night when Cris Ronaldo bagged the world’s best player prize in Zurich and presumably with no idea of people’s sufferings in Gaza, I decided to run away from home to make an appreciable change in my life. I did run away, it’s true, but not from home. I rather ran away from Kurosh’s car, also my favorite car, the one that whenever I went headstrong I smashed its door so firmly that Kurosh would figure out how angry I was and kept quiet till I calmed down. I mean to say that on that particular night I was stubborn again and knew exactly why I was sizzling. An old wound had returned and it was all Nasrin Majedi’s fault. So to mollify the itching of that old wound I had to wander around odd and even streets of Gisha. 

Shahin had kept nagging and complaining all that morning that he was bored. He had been sick in bed for three days. I could decrease his fever from 40^C to 38^C that was a great achievement for a fever-philic kid like Shahin. 

Immediately after Nasrin dropped in my life, I started the pool plan. On even days I went to the pool on Gisha Street. And on odd days I went to the one in Amirabad. I actually paddled in water unnoticeably, as you know, I cannot swim.
 

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My Dear Husband / Page 89

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Author:           Fariba Kalhor (1961 – )
Publisher:       Amout Publications 
Release Date: February 2012
IR-ISBN: ‏‫‭        978-600-5941-85-2
Language:       Persian
Genre:             Fiction 
Category:        Iranian Novel
                        320 pages

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Id : 135466