If I were to envision myself in a place and transport myself there in a matter of moments, I would choose to be a boxer standing in the center of the ring, knee-deep in blood and relentlessly throwing punches. I looked in front of me confused and felt successive blows on my face and body, one after the other. I would feel the impact of each strike on my face and body, knowing that with each hit, my muscles and tissues were being systematically destroyed.

I longed for the punches to align with the earth’s rotational movement, so that the devil inside me could be exorcised, and my soul could finally find a semblance of peace. Perhaps the key to freeing my soul from its torment was to let the blood flow freely from my battered body. Maybe the only way to find solace was to punish my body for its sins and complain of its shortcomings.

This show is dedicated to my lost friend and brother: Arin Razaghi.”