I HEARD HIS VOICE BY ATASH YAGHMAIAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 70
Something strange happened to me. I heard the Muslim call to prayer, but we were somewhere in the Lower East Side of New York City and there were no minarets. I strained my ears to listen. Children’s voices seemed to be coming from outside the window, though we were on the fourth floor. I let the sounds wash over me. Then the deep, soft voice of my Uncle Hossain filled my ears: “Azizam, movazeb baash kasi nayad too. My love, don’t let anyone in.”
