Is the war over?!
It is Nowruz(1988), we migrate, house to house. We have taken the mourning cloths for Sajedeh's(my little sister) death off and seek refuge in grandfather's house. We know it very well that this is a temporary house too. Everyone has come but father; he did not come back after Sajedeh's martyrdom.
Someone knocks the door, time stops, my father suffers martyrdom, the house becomes black and mirth becomes mourning.
The war is over and a new migration begins, a mandatory one. Two empty ammunition boxes become our baggage and the baggage becomes our home country. Alley to alley, city to city, state to state we carry our home country on our backs.
So many years pass, father’s bones are found (2001). Among all of us, father and Sajedeh were prosperous. One of them inhabits the Marmar Palace in Ahwaz cemetery (1987) and thanks to authorities, another one becomes the owner of a granite residence in Qom graveyard (2001).
We exchange the grief over death of loved ones, collapsed ceiling of our dreams and the deserted plain of our hopes with the crisis of migration suffering and the cancer of having no identity. The finished war parades in the skeleton of identity. Each of us is astonished somewhere across the world looking for the lost identity and I appeal to photography for helping to find the answers of my questions and constantly ask myself “is war over?” !
The series follows Impacts of Iran & Iraq war on my family.