Pol-e-Moalagh

I have been sitting in the car for an hour staring at the other side of the street, at the 13th alley. August is even hotter than its name. I know that the bottle of mineral water that I bought from the newsstand changes shape in my hand. I have finished the water and I have not opened the east yet. The newspaper on the dashboard looks like a white canvas under the sun. I look at the first page, which is filled with the compilation of the twenty-year vision document. Twenty years is a long time. People don't need so much time to forget their promises...