The Neighing of Rakhsh

Zabih Mahdi opens inside a large garden, on an old and imposing house built of unfired clay — enough delicacy left in it to show that it once had its day. In a corner of the largest room an old man is bent over a tray of sand, staring hard at it. He sweeps the end of his turban back from his face and, with the stick in his hand, draws a single unbroken line across the sand from the top right corner towards the left. His face carries the marks of sleeplessness. Text in Dari/Persian.

Author: ذبیح مهدی

Original title: شیهه‌ی رخش