ABSTRACT
In the autumn of 1993, the heart of a much-loved aunt of mine stopped beating. Like many Iranian women, she managed her family and sustained its social status in their community. She was intelligent, skilful and sociable. Those who knew her respected her charismatic presence and enjoyed her company. Even when her husband was alive, she assumed the role of family representative. I last saw her 15 years before her death, shortly before I left Iran. Her memory is forever associated in my mind with all things beautiful, so I remember her jovial presence, her beautiful face, her bright-red lipstick and her sweet fragrance. And so I wrote about her in a eulogy. The eulogy took some family members by surprise, not because of what I wrote, but merely because I have entertained such memories and warm feelings after so many years of living in qorbat, a foreign land, and distanced from friends and families.
