I keep replaying those moments in the bomb shelter. Every second stretches into a lifetime, an eternity which people in LA or London can’t even begin to imagine. The siren screams through the air, then vanishes, leaving a silence so thick you can feel your own heartbeat racing. You wait. You whisper a prayer. You squeeze your eyes shut, not knowing what will come next. And then, suddenly, the ground shakes as the explosion hits. If you’re lucky, you open your eyes. It wasn’t you. You’re alive. That’s what every victim murdered by the Iranian regime went through, again and again— moments of terror, of hope, of waiting in the dark. Until one day, they do not open their eyes. Their stories ended in that darkness. May their memory be a blessing 💔
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