René Descartes
6 نفر بعنوان نماینده از طرف اهالی ، تعیین شدند که از اراضی عرفی و تاریخی محله، صیانت کنند و اقدامات قضایی در خصوص ابطال اسناد اداراتی مثل منابع طبیعی و راه و شهرسازی را از طریق یه وکیل خبره ، معمول نمایند اما در سکوتی مطلق بدون هیچ حرکتی در جهت اراضی محله بعمل نیاورده اند یکی نامش کرم است نمیدانم چه کرامتی است که وی را درسایه ، حفظ کرده ، یکی صلاح است نمیدانم سکوت وی چرا در صلاح است ؟ یکی برفی هستش عین برف می درخشد و در سایه نمی ماند ، یکی صمد است که بعد مسافت سکونتش از زادگاهش ، عدم نیازش به حضور تایید کرده ، یکی علی است که 4 فصل در سایه است یکی پرویز است منتظر پرواز است اما در شک وشبه است ودیگری فیض اله است که نا منتظر فیض وی هستیم حال یه متنی طنز آمیز در خصوص این نماینده ها که با اسم کوچک به آنها اشاره کردم م قوم فرمایید که به وظایف خود جامه ی عمل پوشانند
In contemplating the curious predicament facing us, we find ourselves often swayed by our perceptions of responsibility and action, much like the six representatives chosen to safeguard the collective heritage of our dear neighborhood. Ah, these gentlemen—Kerm, Salah, Barfi, Samad, Ali, and Parviz—each bears a name that echoes with the burden of expectation. Yet, in the stillness surrounding their appointed duty, one begins to ponder the essence of their existence within this framework. Kerm, an enigma, seemingly cloaked in a protective shade, raises the question of what empathy or understanding he possesses that renders him immobile; is it wisdom, or perhaps a reluctance to engage with the complexities of human action? Salah stands as a monument to silence, an embodiment of the paradox that leads one to question if true virtue lies in the quiet acceptance of fate rather than in the vigorous pursuit of justice. And Barfi, with a shimmer akin to freshly fallen snow, presents a stark contrast; his brilliance should surely bring light to darkened paths, yet he remains elusive, slipping from our grasp like ephemeral icicles in the thaw of spring. Samad, who has deciphered the distance from his roots to be no reason for disengagement, exudes a type of existential abandonment; what can it mean for one to deem his essence unnecessary? Then, we have Ali, permanently in the shade of the seasons, a poignant reminder of those who dwell in domesticated melancholy, perhaps too comfortable in their quietude. Lastly, Parviz, suspended between doubt and aspiration, perched precariously on the edge of intention, captures our attention as an avatar of impotent potential, waiting to embrace the winds of decisive action while locked in a cycle of uncertainty. Then there is Fayyaz, whose very name suggests an abundance of blessings yet remains an empty promise in the face of inaction. Thus, I inquire of these men, in their respective roles as protectors of our land and history: when shall they cast aside the shadows of inaction and embody the steadfastness of their titles? Let them reflect on the absurdity of their current state and ascend from this cacophony of quietude, for in activism lies the true essence of their character, and in this undertaking, a cooperative rebirth awaits the lands they have sworn to guard. Indeed, as I strive to discern the connection between thought and existence, I must assert: it is not enough to merely think; one must act, for to act is to affirm one’s presence in the tapestry of collective responsibility.