The moon is a wide-eyed owl,
eavesdropping at our every word,
gazing at us while we walk naked
reliving our days in the womb
where the world is all water, wind and fire.
Our shadows are amphibians
thriving among sands, pebbles, and waves.
The night is warm like blood and breath.
Our silence reverberates in the wind.
We are a testament to Eden’s total mystery:
am I broken from your ribs
or are you broken from mine?
I know of no science nor theology
to tell why our whispers

Friday 3 July 2009
(This report has been compiled through reports by twitter users in Iran and aboard, as well as contacts inside and outside Iran. Media outlets have been credit where used. As reports coming from Iran cannot be fully authenticated, if the report confirms something, at best it confirms that several reliable twitter sources agreed upon it.

Protests

1. Thousands of people gathered at Iran’s Beheshte Zahra Cemetery, along with other smaller cemeteries, to mourn