Passing Words: Marjane Satrapi

There was a small fountain at which you could refresh yourself (washing the dust from your face and hands); there was a depression near - a shallow pool in which you could step to wash the world from your sandals and feet without removing your shoes (and being "uncovered" in the courtyard). The cypress trees were tall here, providing shade, and the smell of lemons and olives clung to the slight breeze. The door was open to the soul, but it would offer sunnah, stepping forward with the right foot only (calling blessing and protection upon this house). But, just inside, the scent of strong coffee and baked goods was unmistakable (like they had moved this place from Paris just for it). "For both of us," a familiar voice said (mirroring the soul's thoughts), "so come in already." And it was as if all of the places they had ever been had become one place and all of the ways they had ever lived became one life shared ... again ... at last, again.

In memory of Marjane Satrapi, author and comic book artist ("Persepolis"); Satrapi passed away on June 4th. Her death is attributed to Broken Heart Syndrome and follows closely the death of her husband, Mattias Ripa, just one year before. Satrapi was outspoken about her childhood in Iran after the 1979 revolution brought rule-by-theocracy (under which, rights for all people, but especially women, were minimized or repealed). Satrapi continued to be outspoken about the Iranian government after her relocation to Paris, which made trips back to her homeland unwise; still, she retained a deep love of the place, its people, and all of the potential that could be realized.