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Mr. Burhamad, your hand was on our pulse

It must tell a story in which we can see ourselves, a child who had life and death in that pond, yard, and thatched house like us, we saw those teachers who were cruel, those adults who didn’t understand us, and we don’t think the world is so lonely, Majid and his stories are like us . He’s also looking for a book, he wants to make a short film with a Super Eighth camera and he wants to write a story or create something, but he encounters barriers and hurdles that take and burn opportunities, teachers and the educational structure wanted us to keep the books, in Let’s stay with the limits and contracts set, but Majid, with the help of his grandmother Self-taught, learn how to navigate obstacles, even if the end of this structure fails and fails.

A decade later, when it was our youth’s turn, he told a story that resonated with us, a film whose main character and captive of our present state, there was something bothering him, like our collar. A personal story based on his personal experience (Pourahmad) but had a serious connection to a large part of the community that was maturing. That character was tired of all those surveillance and intrusions into his private domain. That “Yalda night” was a bitter night, a night in which “loneliness” emerged from loneliness in the sense of no one and sat in the house of a man who had nothing to lose and nothing to build. A man who saw the barriers of life in Majed’s stories in a different way than his way of life. This movie had a moment that summed it all up, Mohammad Reza Foroutan, in response to the officer who came to warn him, poked his head out of his privacy and said, “What’s the matter, brother? A birthday party is forbidden? We don’t have a woman without a veil, we don’t have a veiled woman, we don’t have a man Jealous, we don’t have a jealous man…Christmas party for a kid, we don’t have kids either.”

a time when personal life was full of intrusions from the public arena and the public arena constituted personal privacy; What was outside conflicted with people’s personal sphere, and people lived with layered masks on their faces, in a society where everything was mixed up; He narrated these interventions. A society in which people’s privacy was not known, nor was the public sphere found its place, and everything is written under everything. A society in which both the outside and the inside were imbalanced.

A few years later, he again created a great work, “Night Bus”, this time his intention was to present a war story, humane and true, and there was no news of ideological heroes, nor of enemies who had sunk into ignorance and ignorance. They did not know what to do and had nothing to do but die. A story that was the story of people who were neighbors for nine years and centuries, who were together for thousands of years, and without a doubt, in this distant history, they fought with each other many times and fought wars, both in the myths of the people who are defined today in the geography of the land of Iraq. We were their friends and enemies at the same time, and we had the impression that they were our friends and enemies. which is an Iranian name for the main city of Iraq) and they also had memories of the war that led to our historic defeat; But among all these, Burhamd found the bitterness and sweetness of his youth, which had fond memories of him on both sides, from Khorramshahr and Basra, from Arvindrud and Shatt al-Arab at the same time. They had a daughter and son-in-law.

In this film the people were an amalgamation of those values ‚Äč‚Äčthat were imposed on them outside the biological arena, in this film he is the narrator of the people in an undesirable situation that was imposed on them. War is an unwanted imposition that defines the emergence and emergence of the self, it tells these people as they are, the night bus with its driver, the youth and its families is an account of the complex intertwining of people today. The people who are there and who influence our existence and the people who are not there and their influence on our lives is clear whether it is the son of a captured driver or one of the founders of the war.

Keumarth Borahmad had his hand on our pulse, we are all human beings, he was from another generation. But he knew the generation after him and narrated their issues. He was younger than the previous generation, but he knew them and their beliefs well. Today, with his own death, with all the possibilities expressed for this decision up to this point, he is the narrator of the human impotence to which the barriers erected around him have led him to eternal reaction. A work that creates something outside the framework of cinema and art.

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