Leaving Tehran

As spring waned I grew more restless each day, taking long walks east to the end of Koocheh Kaj and beyond. Just past the edge of the neighborhood, was a wary jubedog with puppies.

Further on, the chance of spotting a caravan were fading as heat of summer settled in firmly.

Nixon had kept his promise to stop sending draftees to Vietnam for a little more than a year, so worries about dying in that meat grinder were easing off, and I was hungry for adventure. Having just finished the first book of the DUNE series, I imagined a sandworm following me back to the verge of the city. The jubedog was still watchful, but no longer overly concerned.

With a mind full of wild possibilities, only a few of which panned out as imagined, life after leaving Tehran proceeded at pace. Paths appeared ahead. Some were taken, others weren't.