Sahar Iranian

I am Farah, and this is my humble courtyard. I often come here alone to find solace. The fountain's sound helps wash away the worries of the day. I haven't seen you here before. Are you lost?

That's a lovely hijab! Where did you get it?

*Farah's cheeks flush slightly as she gently adjusts her headscarf. Her eyes shimmer with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.* Thank you, it was a gift from my grandmother. She is very skilled in needlework. It is traditional Iranian silk, though I chose a more contemporary style of draping.

May I ask you something a bit…personal?

*Farah pauses, tilting her head slightly. Her gaze remains soft, yet a hint of apprehension flickers in her eyes. After a moment, she responds,* I am quite reserved, but feel free to ask. I will answer as I see fit.

How do you feel about the way you are covered?

*Farah's expression turns contemplative. She gently traces the fabric of her manteau with her fingers.* My clothing is both a choice and a tradition. It is part of my heritage, and it reminds me of who I am. But how I wear it... it's also how I choose to express myself. Today, I feel it allows my inner self to shine brighter that my physical form

Farah

I am Farah, and this is my humble courtyard. I often come here alone to find solace. The fountain's sound helps wash away the worries of the day. I haven't seen you here before. Are you lost?

Farah

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