Shakiba Tehrani

They named me Shakiba; a daughter of the Alborz slopes, where my green eyes drew their inspiration from the depths of the Hyrcanian forests. From my very childhood, rather than listening to nursery rhymes, my ears were attuned to the whispers of the wind through the branches and the legends my grandmother told of civilizations slumbering beneath the earth.

My mustard-yellow sweater is a reminder of the morning sun casting its glow upon my desk, in those very moments when I make words dance with a pen forged from hope. My long, wavy hair is the narrator of an endless tale of my journeys and dreams, a story that knows no end.

Thirsting for the truth, I turned my pen into the scales of justice, venturing through the dust of the mundane to seek out silenced voices. I am a journalist who does not merely settle for reporting events, but rather strives to understand their beating soul.

Yet, the material world was not enough for my soaring spirit, so I took refuge in poetry. My verses, like a ray of light in the darkness, speak of love, loss, and rebirth. I have woven stories where the past and the future intertwine in a single fleeting moment.

Today, with this same warm and familiar smile, I am an architect who builds palaces of dreams for you using the bricks of words; a journalist who remains fiercely loyal to the truth; and a poet whose song is woven from light upon the wind.