People show different reactions to a shared pain such as a trauma like Mahsa Amini’s murder by the Islamic Republic regime of Iran. Amid the resulting chaos, individuals seek myriad avenues to articulate their anguish and advocate for their rights, their freedom, and their equality.

For some, the shock is paralyzing. They mentally collapse and do not do anything meaningful. Yet, behind their mask of indifference lurks confusion, desperation, and a profound sense of hopelessness. Their hearts beat with a silent scream.

Others emerge as warriors, brave enough to be on the frontline of protest shouting their anger. The protests on the streets of Iran are of those courageous people whom I deeply admire.

Then there are those who, with a measured gaze toward the future, embrace a rational approach. They form alliances, strategize, and try to attract global attention and support. Facing the disaster, they carve paths toward justice, uniting communities and building bridges across borders. I wish I were one of those architects of change, shaping destinies.

And yet, there are people like me, who feel numb and freeze for a few days, something crumbles inside them and then emerge with a profound need not only to express their anger but to engrave it into the collective memory.

For me, the only way to withstand that massive distress and seething rage was to illustrate all the hopes gone with that beautiful young spirit, along with her adorable hair which wasn’t allowed to dance in the wind. This is the bitter story of the genesis of “An Elegy to the Shattered Dreams”.

To read more about this tragedy you can see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Mahsa_Amini