The Frozen Desert, Moein Mansoori Fard [easy books to read in english .txt] 📗

into my hair. The scar on my face has changed my look. It’s a skin deep wound which doesn’t need stitches.

I finish washing when I hear knocking on the door. I open the door and, as Karisan said before, one of his colleagues, with some clothes, appears at the door. On a cart attached on his clothes is written: “Yatilan”. He puts the clothes on a table near the door, without noticing me and says exhaustedly:

Please use the things that you need.

Then he strokes his beard with his hand and goes back. There is a complete set of clothes which, from their appearance, it is apparent they are not so new. I take and hang them on a clothes rack which is half broken and linked to the wall. I can’t endure standing on my feet anymore, so I sit on the floor of the bathroom. All of a sudden I see my feet, it looks like I have walked on the ground full of sharp glass splinters: the new and old wounds; coarse blisters. I don’t know why I feel no pain. They irritate only when water touches them, they burn insomuch I close my eyes and gnash all out my teeth.

I wash my raincoat which is knee high, with small volume of water. It is the only useable clothes that I have. Then I dry myself with a towel from my knapsack. I put my clothes on. I can feel their wear and tear smell easily. I wear my shoes slowly and carefully, take my knapsack and shake it a little and go out of the bathroom after cleaning there.

There are still many people in front of the windows staring at the outside. Others also are looking out of the window, while are sitting on their chairs. By my exit from the bathroom, some of them turn their look toward me. I go to the closest table which is near the window and sit at it.

I feel all of their heavy looks on me. I bow down my head and begin to play with my fingers. I hate to be under the eyes of the others. Although I don’t look at them, I can find out the intention of their looks. Some people look at the newcomers out of curiosity, some with no reason, and some are waiting for someone else and with each arrival their eyes become splendent that maybe find the one who they are looking for. Some may frown and some may only stare and pretend that this is the first time they meet someone else. After a while that seems all of the looks are scattered, I look around leeringly. As I guessed, no one notice me. I raise my head and look around like all of the newcomers. There are some candles on each table, on the edge of the windows, on the counter, and Inside of the wall of the shelter which have led to blacken parts of the ceiling. There are also four lamps attached to the ceiling along the salon fairly far from each other. The glimmer of their light, only can bright one room. A few rods are welded to the ceiling and the wires are passed through them. I follow the course of these wires with my eyes until I reach the room which is on the left side of the counter and near the entrance. A rather noisy clamor comes from this room.

The air is filled with a variety of smells: from the smell of dirt and garbage to the smell of foods which is the strongest. I long for a bowl of soup. Everywhere is swept and the dustbins are empty.

Inside the shelter is different from its outline. There is no sign of stone, wood and plastic inside the house. Conversely, all of the inner walls are made of iron like an equipped war tank. Some iron pillars also are used to support the ceiling. The only places that are not of iron, are the ceiling and floor. Like a green pepper that its appearance may not denotes its taste, the outline of this shelter differs from its inner space.

Some walls are painted completely and some other are half painted. Those parts of the walls which are not painted, are rusted like the doors and seem yellowish. All of the wires which are used to supply the light, are exposed to the eyesight but no one look at them and notice them at all.

There are so many written memorial on the wall which is unknown their writers are still alive or not. There are also many carving on the iron surfaces which some of them are old and some are new. Some of these show the despair of their own writers and some have been written to show the degradation of the world. As far as I can see and read, even one of them have not written about the world in satisfaction.

Behind the counter are the cupboards to the ceiling in which are the glasses, beverages and some plants with big and wide light red leaves. Cupboards are wooden and seem rather black. It is like they have been in use for many years. Nobody is there behind the counter.

In front the counter, there are the tables which I am sitting at one of them. There are four chairs around each table. Like the cupboards, these chairs are wooden and wear out as well.

While playing with my hands, I look at the table which I am sitting at it. Although they had tried to represent them a little new by painting, there are still so many memorial writings and carvings on them. A piece of the table was cut and its surface was pitted like a bumpy road. One of the legs of the table is shorter than the others, so it is acock and slants to the same side that is heavier and wobbles a little. I move a piece of wood which is on the ground with my foot and after playing with it for a while, I put it under the shorter leg of the table. It works successfully; wobbly leg becomes fixed.

All of a sudden, I see a man who has taken his chair away from the table and is sitting in a dark corner, near the fireplace and stared at me. At first sight, I think I have made a mistake, but when I look at him again, he still keeps his eyes on me. He is gazing at me and his breast goes up and down. His face has dissolved in darkness, and I just can see his glassy eyes. I look behind; maybe he is looking at someone who is sitting behind me and is in his eyeshot, but no one is in his view but me. I stop noticing him, and when I look at him again, he is not there anymore. It is like he is combined with darkness.

Two of Karisan’s colleagues go toward the window. Despite people objections, they begin closing windows. Although the windows are made of glass, there is an aluminum window in front of each. These two men are closing the aluminum windows. There is no hole on them and completely block the light from outside. By closing them, inside the shelter becomes just a little dark.

Suddenly I see the shadow of a person on my table. I raise my head slowly and look at his face. A man is standing near me with a food tray; lassitude and weariness have nested in his eyes.

Here you are. Unfortunately we can’t offer you more food than this because of foodstuffs shortage.

He puts the tray on the table and then while is going away from me, points to the door near the fireplace and says:

If you feel sick, call on there to see the doctor.

All of the waiters’ clothing is a long and bright raincoat which covers whole of their bodies, and they also dressed in a simple gray trousers and shirt. I look at the food tray: a bowl of soup and a glass of water. Finally, after three weeks, I can eat a square meal.

Some are talking to each other, some fell asleep on the table, and some lied down on the ground and are in a deep sleep. Their world is summarized in these things. Some other are playing games. Two people are sitting in front each other and playing chess. The chessboard is patched up with some pieces of adhesive tape. It is covered with adhesive tape, but is too old so that its black squares have become white and they are identified by the lines around them. Some of chessmen are lost and instead of them some pieces of lathed wood and stone are in use. Four persons have come together and sat on the floor and playing poker. Playing cards has become white and dingy, and are almost alike. It is hard to read their figures.

The meal smells as usual. I look around with each spoon I bring into my mouth. The condition of the people in the shelter not only is not better than my own, but also is worse. It looks like they have survived through a war or an earthquake. Their faces and clothes have become alike in color. Their clothes are dirty and seem dark. All looks like with each other. Their hair are elflock, disheveled and dirty insomuch that are stuck in bundles. This is just the difference between the forms of men’s and women’s bodies that makes them differentiable. They are like the suburb slummer and homeless people, with this distinction that they are all alike and there is no difference between them. Their clothes are raggedy and patched. Some are dressed in loose or tight clothes, and some have inharmonious dress. Only a few are well-dressed and clean; they are staff of the shelter.

The thing that shows off most are the women whose ratio to the men is less than one to ten. By the approximate counting that I have done, there are 150 persons in ground floor, and assuming the same number in the first floor, which among them are only 60 women. Some of these women worn wimple and some are unveiled.

I don’t know why I was the only one that used the bathroom. Maybe people don’t like bath, or maybe my appearance was worse than I thought. As I put the spoon into my mouth slowly, I hear the sound of dragging a chair on the floor from the behind. I turn and look out of curiosity. Two people are sitting on their chairs. One of them stared at me.

I have a strange feeling. An unknown man whose face is covered by his beard, looks suspiciously at the man who has a dirty and small hat on his head and is sitting near him. Then his look turns toward me. He is challenging with himself with frowned eyebrows and narrowed eyelids. It seems that he wants to tell me something but his face remains calm. An askew smile appears on his lips which are hidden under his beard. He sits and after a while stops looking to my eyes and begin talking with the man next to him. I didn’t find anything from his look, so I turn my eyes away from them.

I think about that man’s mysterious looks. What was the reason for his looks? I try to look at him again to find out something. So I turn my head toward him slowly. They are still talking to each other. He looks around once in a while and shows the environs to the man who put a hat on his head, while speaking. I try to understand what they are talking about, but they talk quietly. These two outsider are now completely close together and talk in whisper. Maybe the man had no specific reason for his look and confused me with someone else. When I