Wind’s blowing.
Coats off. Masks too.
Massive smiles.
Spinning, running.
Afterschool kids.
Playground joy.
In Farsi we say:
Bozorg mishan yadeshoon mire.
They’ll grow old and forget.
May these be the moments they don’t.
Wind’s blowing.
Coats off. Masks too.
Massive smiles.
Spinning, running.
Afterschool kids.
Playground joy.
In Farsi we say:
Bozorg mishan yadeshoon mire.
They’ll grow old and forget.
May these be the moments they don’t.
Between your perfect photographs and wondrous words, I was mesmerized. When playground joy collides withs the arrival of spring, joy reigns supreme. Your Farsi words feel super important.
Aww, I love your last line! I hope they remember. What a powerful saying: they’ll grow old and forget. I always think of me watching them grow up and longing for these moments to return, but I never really thought about the kids someday losing these precious days to time, as we all do. <3 Another reason to capture these slices – not just for us to remember, but to someday share with them too!
There is nothing more fun than a warm spring day at the playground.
It may be that the memories fog, but the feelings won’t so much. So much joy in this post that is living between the lines and shining through in the pictures.
So much to love about this poem and this moment. It marks time in general and specifically. May these be the moments we remember – as much as we may want to forget, I hope we remember. We remember to create change. We remember to appreciate the joy we made. We remember to move forward together with the lessons we learned. Nawal – your writing and images always move me. I love starting my day with your writing.