Places

In between

In between my two monitors, on the wall behind my desk, is a photo of a small Iranian village; the hometown of a friend of mine. The little village lies in between two snow capped mountain ranges. I am told that a river carrying freshly melted snow runs down from one of the mountain ranges though I am not sure which one. The water is cold and crisps even on a hot summer's day and on such days all the children of the village head to the river in droves. My friend gave me this photograph and made me promise that I will visit his village. He told me that this was the only photo he had of his village, taken from this view which is on a foothill of the mountain range. Sadly, now that he is working and studying in Esfahan, he hardly returns home; Only on festive occasions or for a funeral or wedding. He has left his lovely little village and works long hours after class in return for the hope of a better life. As my eyes shuttle between the monitor screens, it occasionally pauses at this photograph and I can't help but think that I am no different from my friend, working long hours in return for the hope of a better life; perhaps forgetting that it is the places in between that sometimes matters most.