Homa

The mythical bird Homa, forever in flight, carries on its wings the weight of exile, memory, and belonging. The black skirt becomes a canvas, inscribed with the vow: “If Iran does not exist, let my body not exist.”

Eyes weep, and pearls fall and scatter like tears. The corset cracks like ancient stone, holding the silence of centuries.

Homa is born of Iran’s grandeur and its wounds, a reminder that identity is never abandoned, even across oceans.

This piece is my declaration as an Iranian.