I saw the first tombstone up close in my early childhood. I was forced to stand in the middle of mourning crowd and look at the tombstone of my deceased grandmother, who had once been a happy and lively woman. That cold and alien gaze that stared back from the tombstone made me hate everything that was happening around.
In 2016, after all these years I was back at the graveyard. It coincided with the Novruz holidays, that celebrates the beginning of the spring, when people go to the graves of their loved ones, clean them up and adorn them with flowers. The feelings I felt this time were different from my grandmother's funeral. The surroundings were devoid of the funeral atmosphere and everything looked different, a bit more picturesque. I saw the tombstones not as just pieces of marble, but vivid colours. Later, I coloured in the photos of the tombstones to demonstrate my attitude towards these deeply embedded traditions.