Back in 1984 my sister went to check out Yale University in New Haven, CT. We got lost and were on Iranistan Ave. As we pulled over to ask directions from someone, the guy blurted out "شما ایرانی هستید؟", probably due to my aunt's accent. We thought it was a cool coincidence of meeting an Iranian on that avenue. The avenue still exists. Looking it up now, Iranistan was also a Moorish Revival mansion in Bridgeport, Connecticut. It burned down in 1857.
I remember when I first arrived in the US due to the different culture I was brought up in, the folks in town teased me and considered me "not right" and implied slight mental illness or simply being different. I was in a relationship of some kind with this girl in town. She once told me, “Everybody thinks I should be afraid of you, but I’m not.” The town's sheriff would take photographs of us and follow one or both of us in his vehicle. Eventually I caught her making love to an unidentified person. Shortly afterwards the sheriff also arrived and spotted me. I fled, leaving my scarf behind on the branch of a bush. My girlfriend disappeared under suspicious circumstances and was later found dead. Shunned by many, I was immediately considered the main suspect. While in the interrogation room, I was shown a white cloth, which the sheriff identified as the item used to strangle the girl. I denied that the girl and I were romantically involved. Locals vandalized o...
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