인스타그램 스토리 뷰어
인스타그램 스토리를 익명으로 보기
farandy
Farand Heydari
It’s pronounced Far-and
What a fun shoot with an incredible team!
THE SKATE ERA IS BACK.
Introduced in 1976. Re-introduced in 2026. Now available online and in skate shops worldwide.
Client @vans @vansskate
Featuring @thetonyalva1957
Production Company: @ghostdigitalcinema
Director: @tyevans
Producer: @stephmakeup
AD: @farandy
DP: @imacleigh
1st AC: @tilleyyellit
Techno: @telescopingcameracranes
Techno Coordinator: @christianhurley05
Techno Head OP: @coreykief
Techno Tech: @brandonthorne
Gaffer: @justjunior
Best Boy: Jason Sidore
Swing: @cyread
Sound: @freq1c
Hair/Makeup: @stephmakeup
DIT: @sympathydropout
Edit/Color: @imacleigh
PA: @tuckercostello
PA: @jerarias_
PA: @hasfilms
Vans Global Producer: @yo_gabbers
Vans Global Creative Director: @chase4796
Vans Project Manager: @chaseweik
Vans Still photographer: @aacostaa
Vans Brand Mgmt: @justin_villano_
Vans Athlete Mgmt: @brewchachski
Vans Social Manager : @bridgeusername
Vans Social Filmer : @ryan_hovland_
Vans PA : @vandeusen_
Special thanks to the Vans HQ employees and team riders who came out to make the shoot possible.
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
Feb 14. 350,000 Iranians gathered in LA alone. Over 1 million worldwide
Like all major world events, this conflict has seen many different conversations, sides, ideas, and desires emerge. But one thing remains through it all, the shared pain of an entire culture, spread to all corners of the world. Wherever we are in this blue rock, our hearts have all shattered the same.
Behind all the slogans and political theatre, one thing remained unshakably present: we were all still very Persian. Polite, kind, hurting. Family. There was dancing, singing, children, people from all walks of life came together to mourn with one desire in mind. Freedom for our families. And when it was all over we even cleaned up after ourselves.
I understand the ramifications of war. Especially against an ideology. The fact that we chant long live the king in a country that holds no king rallies is not lost on me. I get that we have big enough problems to worry about here. But I want our struggle to be a place everyone can step into and not feel like they have to cross a line, and so I am focusing my attention on educating people on the Persian experience.
Unfortunately our families see a much different fate. When they show up with this same energy, they are met with gunfire and bloodshed.
So I went not just for my own reasons, but to show them they are not alone. Whatever discomfort or undesirable circumstances we go through here, whatever disagreements we have among each other, all pale in comparison to the hell they live through on a daily basis.
I’m done chasing perfection. There may not be a right answer here. But as long as this regime remains in power, I won’t let it win.
برای آزادی ایران
This is Mount Damavand, a famous peak in the northern province of Iran, visible from Tehran.
We have an epic called The Shahnameh (The Book of Kings) written by my hero, the poet Ferdowsi, in the year 1010. He wrote this book to preserve the Persian identity through the Arab conquest of the Middle East. This book is attributed to the survival of the Persian language and with that, the endurance of our culture. The original rebel.
In its first story, the evil tyrant Zahhak kills his own people every day for a thousand years. He continues until he is challenged by a blacksmith named Kaveh who becomes the voice of the people and leads a rebellion against the evil king. They join forces with an exiled prince named Fereydun, and together defeat and imprison the serpent-king in Mount Damavand for all eternity.
To me, the fate of the tyrant serves as a reminder that as long as human kind exists, so will the evil they wrought. We are bound to endure it. Killing it isn’t enough, what it really takes to end it is people of all walks coming together, fighting for each other.
This story is unfolding once again in real time today. A testament to not only Ferdowsi’s wisdom, but to the undying nature of human kind to repeat its mistakes. Because history will do what history does best.
While the world feels like its burning, I dream of visiting the the icy peaks of this mountain each and every day. For me it’s not only a symbol of the fall of the regime, but the resilience of mankind to triumph over its many tyrants.
To my family, to all the brave warriors still standing in Iran, and to anyone, from any country, who has faced the horrors of an oppressor... I hope to see you there.
This is Mount Damavand, a famous peak in the northern province of Iran, visible from Tehran.
We have an epic called The Shahnameh (The Book of Kings) written by my hero, the poet Ferdowsi, in the year 1010. He wrote this book to preserve the Persian identity through the Arab conquest of the Middle East. This book is attributed to the survival of the Persian language and with that, the endurance of our culture. The original rebel.
In its first story, the evil tyrant Zahhak kills his own people every day for a thousand years. He continues until he is challenged by a blacksmith named Kaveh who becomes the voice of the people and leads a rebellion against the evil king. They join forces with an exiled prince named Fereydun, and together defeat and imprison the serpent-king in Mount Damavand for all eternity.
To me, the fate of the tyrant serves as a reminder that as long as human kind exists, so will the evil they wrought. We are bound to endure it. Killing it isn’t enough, what it really takes to end it is people of all walks coming together, fighting for each other.
This story is unfolding once again in real time today. A testament to not only Ferdowsi’s wisdom, but to the undying nature of human kind to repeat its mistakes. Because history will do what history does best.
While the world feels like its burning, I dream of visiting the the icy peaks of this mountain each and every day. For me it’s not only a symbol of the fall of the regime, but the resilience of mankind to triumph over its many tyrants.
To my family, to all the brave warriors still standing in Iran, and to anyone, from any country, who has faced the horrors of an oppressor... I hope to see you there.
This is Mount Damavand, a famous peak in the northern province of Iran, visible from Tehran.
We have an epic called The Shahnameh (The Book of Kings) written by my hero, the poet Ferdowsi, in the year 1010. He wrote this book to preserve the Persian identity through the Arab conquest of the Middle East. This book is attributed to the survival of the Persian language and with that, the endurance of our culture. The original rebel.
In its first story, the evil tyrant Zahhak kills his own people every day for a thousand years. He continues until he is challenged by a blacksmith named Kaveh who becomes the voice of the people and leads a rebellion against the evil king. They join forces with an exiled prince named Fereydun, and together defeat and imprison the serpent-king in Mount Damavand for all eternity.
To me, the fate of the tyrant serves as a reminder that as long as human kind exists, so will the evil they wrought. We are bound to endure it. Killing it isn’t enough, what it really takes to end it is people of all walks coming together, fighting for each other.
This story is unfolding once again in real time today. A testament to not only Ferdowsi’s wisdom, but to the undying nature of human kind to repeat its mistakes. Because history will do what history does best.
While the world feels like its burning, I dream of visiting the the icy peaks of this mountain each and every day. For me it’s not only a symbol of the fall of the regime, but the resilience of mankind to triumph over its many tyrants.
To my family, to all the brave warriors still standing in Iran, and to anyone, from any country, who has faced the horrors of an oppressor... I hope to see you there.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Take it from someone who’s escaped one dictator already… they are all the same monster, they just wear a different face. And if you can’t see past the veil, then it already has its claws in you. This is why those that can see have to show the world, and those that can speak tell its truth, because that is the weapon the monster fears most. It’s how we claw back.
It will try and tell you an innocent mother is a terrorist, or hungry families are mercenaries, a student is an outlaw, or a six year old child is a threat to your existence. It’s all the same bullshit, spun by the same beast, delivered by a different sack of shit.
Thrilled to announce, from the incredible heart and mind of Oscar nominated director @pedro.kos, In Our Blood has a theatrical release!
LA and NY and select theaters nationwide. It's almost done showing so catch it quick before it goes @amctheatres
What a remarkable team this was to work with in a magical place to shoot. The talented cast, the amazing crew, the tireless producers, everyone. Certainly left a lasting impression. I hope you all enjoy watching this film as much as I did making it.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This Tuesday, Roxy died tragically in a delivery accident. She was 8 years old. She was not only my support animal, but the second half of my spirit, the love of my life, and the light in my heart. She pulled me out of the darkest depths of depression and reminded me there was a life worth living. She stood by me when sobriety was a struggle, and through the daily throes of treating Cancer. But more importantly, she was the best part of everything good.
She gave only joy, love, and affection, asking for nothing in return but a scratch here or rub there. She filled every corner of our home with excitement and anenergy that breathed life into everyone she touched. Every night she curled up against my chest to sleep; every morning she would pounce on it to wake me up, ready to tackle the day. Her tail was constantly wagging, swaying like a flag that said, “Hey, it’s all good.”
—
Roxy, you are forever imprinted in my soul. That crooked smile when your side is scratched. Our morning coffees together. Your taps. That nudge, with your head and bridge of your nose, the tiniest of gestures that says the biggest I love you, but wake up! The happy circles around my feet, burning rings on the floor. In one door, out the other. The way you knock to come inside. The center console will forever be your seat. The mountain is yours, and everywhere light shines too.
Every seat I take I look at the door. Every stair I walk I look for your trail. Every time a lizard scurries, or a mouse flees, when deer bolt and birds take flight. When tall grass stirs in the wind. In that scratch at my leg that says dinner time.And when flowers bloom and laughter fills the air, when adventure calls or a nap is near—on a rainy day, movie night, or cuddled up with a book, the little bump under blankets, and over them too. The warmth of your little head resting on mine. And when the sun rises and it’s time to wake, nudge nudge… your love will be there. How I miss you.
When this pain finally fades it will mean I’ve left this world to be with you. We’ll be together again, just the way you like it.
Roxy, my clever fox. I love you.
This is a photo of my family taken by my father on our first day in Austria, wearing the same clothes we escaped an oppressive regime with. My first memory as a child was hiking through the mountains under the cover of night, asking my mom where we’re going. No toys. No friends. Left the hijabs behind. Just hope that we find a better life.
I lose sleep every night knowing thousands of people are fleeing in terror for their life, struggling, starving, and thousands more that will be affected.
I just need to remind everyone while this war wages on that Iranians are not the Islamic republic.
Iran is not the Islamic republic.
We don’t support them. We don’t like them. We abhors them for the crimes they’ve committed against their own people.
Iranians are Persians. And always will be.
We chartered one of the first documents of human right thousands of years ago and in forty years those assholes stripped every one of them away. They’ve tried to steal everything we stand for from us, and yet we fight on. ✊🏽
I hate to see these so called leaders smile at their triumphs while our history and our struggles are being dragged through the dirt, made to look like some barbarians that like to blow our own limbs off.
We have a word for politeness that doesn’t exist in any other language. If you’ve ever been to a Persians home then you know, hospitality is our second language.
If you turn the screens off and open up a history book, I bet you’ll be surprised at how much good you find on a single page. Don’t lose sight of what’s true, that’s how we all lose.
Just a dog with her statue and a guy with a hawk, both mastering the art of mimicking
Just a dog with her statue and a guy with a hawk, both mastering the art of mimicking
Been a while since I’ve posted. Just want to say hey👋🏽 Although I’m not as social as I used to be, you’re all still on my mind!
This is George. He’s not so bald anymore but the name stuck
비밀리에 인스타그램 스토리 보기
인스타그램 스토리 뷰어는 인스타그램 스토리, 비디오, 사진 또는 IGTV를 비밀리에 보고 저장할 수 있는 간단한 도구입니다. 이 서비스를 통해 콘텐츠를 다운로드하고 언제든지 오프라인으로 즐길 수 있습니다. 인스타그램에서 나중에 확인하고 싶은 흥미로운 콘텐츠를 찾거나 익명으로 스토리를 보고 싶다면, 우리 뷰어가 적합합니다. Anonstories는 신원을 숨길 수 있는 훌륭한 솔루션을 제공합니다. 인스타그램은 2023년 8월에 스토리 기능을 출시했으며, 이 기능은 흥미롭고 시간에 민감한 형식으로 빠르게 다른 플랫폼에 채택되었습니다. 스토리는 사용자가 텍스트, 이모지 또는 필터로 보강된 사진, 비디오 또는 셀카를 공유할 수 있게 해주며, 24시간 동안만 표시됩니다. 이 제한된 시간 동안 높은 참여를 유도하며 일반 게시물보다 더 많은 반응을 얻을 수 있습니다. 오늘날 스토리는 소셜 미디어에서 연결하고 소통하는 가장 인기 있는 방법 중 하나입니다. 그러나 스토리를 볼 때, 제작자는 자신의 뷰어 목록에서 당신의 이름을 볼 수 있으며, 이는 개인 정보 보호에 대한 우려를 일으킬 수 있습니다. 만약 스토리를 아무도 모르게 탐색하고 싶다면? 그때 Anonstories가 유용해집니다. 이 도구는 신원을 드러내지 않고 공개된 인스타그램 콘텐츠를 볼 수 있게 해줍니다. 관심 있는 프로필의 사용자명을 입력하면 해당 프로필의 최신 스토리를 확인할 수 있습니다. Anonstories 뷰어의 특징: - 익명 브라우징: 뷰어 목록에 나타나지 않고 스토리를 볼 수 있습니다. - 계정 필요 없음: 인스타그램 계정에 가입하지 않고 공개 콘텐츠를 볼 수 있습니다. - 콘텐츠 다운로드: 스토리 콘텐츠를 직접 다운로드하여 오프라인에서 사용할 수 있습니다. - 하이라이트 보기: 24시간 제한을 넘어서 인스타그램 하이라이트를 볼 수 있습니다. - 리포스트 모니터링: 개인 프로필의 스토리 리포스트나 참여도를 추적할 수 있습니다. 제한 사항: - 이 도구는 공개 계정에서만 작동하며, 개인 계정은 접근할 수 없습니다. 장점: - 개인 정보 보호 친화적: 인스타그램 콘텐츠를 보면서도 눈에 띄지 않습니다. - 간단하고 쉬움: 앱 설치나 등록이 필요 없습니다. - 독점 도구: 인스타그램에서 제공하지 않는 방식으로 콘텐츠를 다운로드하고 관리할 수 있습니다.
Anonstories의 장점
인스타그램 스토리 비공개로 탐색
인스타그램 업데이트를 비밀리에 추적하고 개인 정보를 보호하며 익명으로 남을 수 있습니다.
개인 인스타그램 뷰어
개인 프로필 뷰어를 사용하여 쉽게 프로필과 사진을 익명으로 볼 수 있습니다.
무료 스토리 뷰어
이 무료 도구는 인스타그램 스토리를 익명으로 볼 수 있게 해주며, 스토리 업로더에게 활동을 숨길 수 있습니다.
자주 묻는 질문
익명성
Anonstories는 사용자가 인스타그램 스토리를 볼 때 제작자에게 알림을 보내지 않도록 합니다.
디바이스 호환성
iOS, Android, Windows, macOS, Chrome, Safari와 같은 최신 브라우저에서 원활하게 작동합니다.
안전성 및 개인 정보 보호
로그인 정보 없이 안전하고 익명으로 브라우징할 수 있습니다.
등록 필요 없음
사용자는 간단히 사용자명을 입력하여 공개된 스토리를 볼 수 있습니다. 계정이 필요하지 않습니다.
지원 형식
사진(JPEG)과 비디오(MP4)를 쉽게 다운로드합니다.
비용
이 서비스는 무료로 제공됩니다.
비공개 계정
비공개 계정의 콘텐츠는 팔로워만 접근할 수 있습니다.
파일 사용
파일은 개인적 또는 교육적 용도로만 사용 가능하며 저작권 규정을 준수해야 합니다.
작동 방식
공개된 사용자명을 입력하여 스토리를 보거나 다운로드할 수 있습니다. 서비스는 콘텐츠를 로컬에 저장할 수 있는 직접 링크를 생성합니다.