These are the stuff I had with me in the first days of war: The Prague bag that Zea had given me which had two of my books: Scott McCloud’s Second Art of Comics, and Brave New World (Aldous Huxley). I had this orange notebook that Mom had given me and a UNI Signo pen that I had bought before I went to the ████████. I treasured them as they were the only things I had to write and reflect. Then there was the orange hat that I had bought in the first day of war with Zea, it had became my war identity.

This is the view of the hotel I spent my third day in. It was rainy, cloudy, and really depressing. I guess war makes all things sad. In the very far there was this big giant flag that now had a fully black flag up in the air for Khamenei. I remember how I used to look at it in shock and think to myself: Is this really happening? Has this really happened?