She is up at 5 am, so she can use her phone to contact her uncle

Kouroosh to tell him that because of Soraya and the rest he is cancelled

Forever, but her mother interrupts her, she looks and says, “No, don’t do

That.” Ma’soumeh is surprised at her mother’s unusual tone, kept for the few

Times she had been endangering herself. “OK mum,” she says dutifully.

“When I was a student,” Yasmin said “I was a rebel with others, truly,

Wearing western clothes, occupying Metro Stations and Trains. We were

Defeated, many jailed and tortured, some killed. They accused me of terror

But let me go because I was pregnant. I had to ask what was the best thing

I could do to fight them.” “And what did you decide?” “To give birth and bring

Up my child with my values. You are my future. Don’t waste it on hate

Or violent gestures or anything that gives them an easy win. The state

Has power, we need to build a countervailing power. You have intelligence;

Use it.” She is stunned: this is her mum who makes food and chairs! She senses

This is a special moment between them and hugs her tenderly. “Is

There more?” she asks. “Your Quds man, I knew him, in one of my classes

At Uni. Maybe he can be saved.” “I must fight, mum, but I will think of what

You’ve said and done.” After school she decides to visit the bulbuls and walks

To their hedge. The chicks are screaming for food, while both parents hunt

for it. The female arrives, flustered by the foreign presence, but some-

how manages to satisfy four mouths. “Maybe,” she tells her, “My mothering

job begins with you and other birds as I learn to include the other

species, like homo sapiens. But I will always love you.” The male flies in

with food and the female, pleased to see him take his fatherly turn, sings

joyfully to him and Ma’soumeh, who has tried to put her life in order.

She has not succeeded, she thinks, but she has found a way forward.