Tehran, seen not as a megalopolis at the foot of volcanoes, but as a character. Tehran, not as something inhabited, but as a self-inhabited thing, moving, changing its face, its mood, its body. Tehran, strange, familiar, savage, welcoming. Tehran, entered into even though you never knocked at the door. Tehran, crossed at high speed by a piercing glance, like an arrow shot aimlessly, a leaf blowing in the wind. Tehran, its seething days and the secret of its bright burning nights Tehran, as it has never been seen before…