"What was it like to live in Iran during the war?" I asked.
"Well, we were used to it. We sat in the living room and we could hear bombs flying in the air hitting the ground from a distance. And we would casually go, 'oops, there it is. It hit somewhere.'"
"That sounds terrible." I frowned.
"Yes, life was like shit..." He said. And he started to recall what it was like when he left the country.
When he was finishing his story, he slightly turned his head away. His eyes strayed away with his memories and were then fixed on an object far far away... can that be his home country?
"What about now?" I asked.
"Oh, it's really different. You learn what life is. You treasure it. You know the meaning of life." He said and his eyes brightened up.
"I want to know what Iranian women are like. Can you tell me?" I was like a little kid making a request for an ice-cream.
"Do you really want to know?" He asked with a smile on his face.
He turned and went into his flat to grab a few photos for me.
Starting from that moment, I decided to visit Iran.
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