“Why aren’t you spending these last days with your family? With the people who love you?” Orkideh didn’t smile at this but didn’t look wounded either. She let her mouth hang open for a moment before saying, “Cyrus,” snapping the r the Iranian way, drawing out the ooo. “I’m an artist. I give my life to art. That’s all there is. People in my life have come and gone and come and gone. Mostly they’ve gone. I give my life to art because it stays. That’s what I am. An artist. I make art.” She paused for a moment. “It’s what time doesn’t ruin.”
