“They weren’t miracles,” he said. “Tell me anyway.” “There’s no such thing as miracles, Khosrou.” “Okay, whatever.” “Only science. Only poetry. Only the mind.” “So, at the airport …” “And the mind can do anything. It can create anything. It is God, Khosrou. The mind is God.” “That’s blasphemy, Dad.” “So what? So I’m blasphemous. What more can happen?” “People could be listening.” You can hear them sometimes, the American secret police, the CIA, tapping into our calls to listen. Sometimes we hear them cough.
