I Don’t Talk Much With Strangers, But Sometimes I Remember Them

I remember years and years ago, being approached in an airport by some women who pleaded with me to look at some brochures, donate money, or whatever. I’m not the kind of person who gives much time to strangers approaching me and wanting something from me.

I think they either showed me a picture, or gave me a brochure, or something. What I remember was a picture of several people hanging, I think the women said it was in Iran. As I said, this was over a decade ago, Iran was a far away place with little to do with my life. Though I paused only for maybe a minute at most, the memory of that little interaction has always stuck with me.

Here it is later, and I’m thinking more and more back to that. That faraway place that didn’t matter much to me then, is mattering more and more to me now, as they attempt to spread their influence. The more I learn about the system that denies people basic human rights, that publicly executes its citizens for ridiculous ‘religious’ fanaticism, the more I think of those women’s urgency all those years ago.

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