Our house was in an old alley, situated between two main streets. On days when school was off, sleeping became the sweetest experience in the world, as I could enjoy the luxury of sleeping in without the stress of waking up early and getting ready for school. However, most of the time, something would disrupt this tranquility. In our alley, there was an old mosque, another one on the main street above us, and a relatively newer one on the main street below. Elyas, the muezzin of the mosque in our alley, would break the heavy silence before dawn as he began to call people to the Morning Prayer with his Azeri accent. After a few minutes, the other old mosque on the main street would broadcast the morning a-zān through a radio, and finally, the young muezzin of the newer mosque down the main street would call people to prayer with his unique accent, reminiscent of that of the Egyptian muezzins. Minarets and cupolas would start twirling inside my head, as if I were in a trance. In that state, I would feel as if I were ejected into the middle of an endless space, drifting weightlessly around planets similar to the cupola of Sheykh Lotfollah Mosque in Isfahan. This childhood sleep of mine repeated for many years, and I found myself lost in the void, among countless planets, weightless and without purpose. Reza Milani Summer 1392 (2013)