On most nights, the sound that defines Tehran is not conversation or traffic. Instead, it is a distant explosion, a jet overhead, a pause in the rhythm of ordinary life.
A few days ago, that distance collapsed. An explosion in eastern Tehran, where I live, shattered the windows of our home. Glass fell across my books and laptop, damaging it beyond repair. For a moment, the abstract language of conflict became immediate and physical.
And yet, almost as quickly, life resumed. The city has not…
Life in Iran illustrates shifting realities amid US-Israel war
