Frida of the past... Negar of the present...

پیش نوشت: احمقانه نیست که آدمیزاد این قدر از خودش بنویسه، وقتی حتی خودش را هم نمی شناسه، چه برسه به بیرون از خودش...

Someone once told me: "you are Frida"... so true I am...

I know myself. (however sometimes I pretend that I don't or at least am not that much sure): The energetic fighter... who brings light to life of the others... yet who is confusing about herself... who is searching for the light in her own life... My words, my looks, my whole existence... I can see how they bring smile for a short or long time for others... just... that's a pity I can't see myself from the outside...

You know what? maybe that's why Frida loved a mirror... and that's exactly why I write this much about myself... who am I really? Who Frida was really...?... thanks for her paintings, we hear her voice yet... what about my voice?...

Frida... this girl preferred her own city, people, colorful house to elaborate New York city... So do I... and don't mess with it: that it is the only point about her that I can see myself in her. no absolutley not... She is just "The One"... So do I...