Tuesday, July 5, 2016


You know how you float into an old un-inhabited house, lost in time, lost in history, off the maps, and you look at the furniture, the walls and the space around you and it seems as if time has stood still. And you slowly walk around and there are memories sitting on the furniture. And you know life is suspended here. You can feel the words, the conversations and the life that once was here and is no more.

I am there… I am here… in the middle of this living room with huge windows looking out to the green hills behind me rising up to the turquoise and kissing the sky with its pine needles… The expanse between me, the brush, the hills and the sky is enormous… I turn around in this room, this house… I know this place. I have been here before. My soul has been here. I don’t know when but I know I have felt this room. My breath catches. There is a part of me that’s twined to souls in this room. I don’t know who they are and where they are… but I know they are a part of me.

My breath… my breath is shallow. I am afraid to breathe any heavier or deeper or else I risk losing this imperceptible silky fine thread that connects me to here… My eye catches the silver reflections of the horizon dancing on the ocean laying bare out of the other window.. Eternity has been here and reaches to the end of the horizons…

I need to walk and move … my bare feet slide on the rustic hardwood floors, and the sound of laughter, the ecstasy of joy and the relentless pitter patter of children’s feet moves through me. And pain… tremendous pain… heartbreak, loss, sorrow… All I can do is to stop… stop.. stop! STOP. Close the eyes, move within myself to inside my core and feel the breath go in slowly, through the nose, to the lungs and the back of the lungs. Keep it there. Feel this, feel them… Talk to me.

I am floating between two worlds, between the here and there, between what is and is not. There is a parallel world that is moving within me and is running its roots around me, pulling me pulling pulling me ….

There are stories to be told. With the words lingering in the air and the memories sitting on the shelves, I am waiting for someone to listen to the stories, to tell me the tales, to listen to my words, to my breath. I am waiting for someone to recognize the warm embrace of the chocolate velvet couch in the corner of the musty room, waiting for someone to savor the words. This is home… and yet I have never been here. I am lost and yet I am home. I don’t know where this is, but I know this place… I know them, I know you… on a visceral level.



Alaleh Kamran, Attorney at Law
A Professional Corporation
15760 Ventura Blvd, Suite 1010
Encino, Ca  91436
ph: 818-986-6222

Lecturer, Radio Host, Citizen Journalist, Blogger
Los Angeles, Las Vegas