Children of the Jacaranda Tree

by Sahar Delijani

Azar felt less exposed now that she could see and somehow on equal ground with everyone else. Behind the blindfold, she had felt incomplete, mutilated, bogged down into a fluid world of physical vulnerability, where anything could happen and she could not defend herself. Now it felt as if with one glance, she could shed the stunting fear that hacked away at her, that made her feel less than whole, less than a person. With open eyes, in the dim corridor surrounded with the bustle of life and birth, Azar felt she was beginning to reclaim her humanity. (p. 7)