I confess: you have been loyal to me, accompanied with the other virtues which are loyalty,s extra: patient, silent, and contented. Forbearance, silence, contentment is not suitable for uniformed relationship. But for our heterogeneous and one-sided relationship which the bullying in it, is mine and taking on the yoke of tolerance is yours; they become suitable. Anytime I needed you, I came to you and got the load of my chest that makes your heart becomes bigger and bigger and keep my wishes and pain… But the other time, I left you alone. I did not see you, you should used to be well. I get used to for your being and not being, it’s hard to replace anybody. How can be understood that his body has the capacity enough as the same size of your tiny’s which surprises the people whom they do not know how your chest keeps the secrets. These people cannot stop of their nose into your business and surprisingly ask “Just It?” I answer “with great pride and calmness: Yes, Just With This One”. Just with you oh my dear small suitcase.
Suitcases and traveling cases are like the hidden albums of the secrets of a trip, the bitter-sweet places out of home. Any effect and scratch on their body, is the memorial of the cowardly strike while imprisonment in the darkness of the buses, bar section or the railbar of the airports… The ill-shaped of their zips shows our restlessness of our pre-trip hardly zip them them up… When we want to buy them, we search for the cheapest, and during the trip; searching for miracle to bear overweight things and bear… We sum up our world among piped pants, crumpled blouses, shoes without proper, well-fed bags of cosmetics, interested edible to be a stereotype of everyday life. We pack our identity in our socks, to open it in other land, … to be renewal and renewal… Sometimes, we put something that never be used at home but we fear to need them in Exile. Without the contents of suitcases without the uselessness into them, we get lost in the land of Other. We forget: the packed socks mean: HOME.
we also have two suitcasical assurances: First, delighted for our destination is developed. Possible to find somethings that suitcase do not pack them, find them. Second, hopeful, for saying hello again to HOME and we visit the lovely things that we could not pack in the suitcase of Exile. But if the trip is One-Way… No Return… if you just have a small suitcase, a wold of packed things, if the last time you zip up the heart of your friend and have to choose between all the dresses, books, the memorials that give you identity… Which one do you select? Which picture frame? Which flower pot? Or the tree in the yard not to wither without you? Can you sum up your beloved people? Can you pack me? Accommodate me?
Writer: Shiva Moghanloo
From the book: The Lighthouse
Trans: Roshanak Rashidi