Yesterday at work on my lunch break I took a walk outside and passed a nearby pond. A group had gathered and were trying to save some kid who had fallen in and could not swim. I kept walking as their situation did not concern me. I went back to work before our break was over and saw someone in the prayer room crying and praying out loud: Here I am, O my Lord, Here I am! Labbaik, allahumma, labbaik! I can feel it coming in the air tonight, Oh Lord! I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord!
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...

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