Fakhrabad

…The sun is sliding over the sloping shoulders of Fakhrabad, fresh scents of youth coming from green meadows… Cows are leisurely grazing in the meadows and from up here it seems that as the sun leaves these slopes, the cows will fall asleep and later, in the moonlight, they will come to life again, just like sleepy butterflies, but that would be a different, a moonlit life of the Fakhrabad spring.