Parham 𓃬☼₿

Proof of Work: making great beef broth takes time, patience, and low time preference 🥩🍲 #foodstr

It’s been a while #nostr #foodstr

It’s been a while, #nostr #foodstr

Shahpasand Kebab a truly #Persian dish made with tender lamb fillet, grilled tail fat, and charred tomatoes, served with fragrant buttery Persian rice.

#foodstr

My search for the best cağ (pronounced “ja”) kebab brought me to Koç in Erzurum, and I have to say, it made me reconsider my standards. Coming from a culture that takes great pride in its kebabs, this was seriously impressive.

The service is excellent, you’re welcomed and served almost immediately with a selection of meze. There’s no traditional menu here; once you’re seated, the cağ kebab keeps coming, one skewer at a time, until you say “tamam.” It’s a simple concept, but done perfectly.

The kebab itself is delicious, tender, flavorful, and best enjoyed with lavash bread. Pairing it with ayran completes the experience.
#foodstr

Hello #datca #knidos

#foodstr

#Fethiye

One of the highlights of the trip was meeting a Turkish couple in #Alanya, Meral and Omar, who run a wonderful seafood spot called Karides. They lived in the Netherlands for many years before recently returning to #Turkey, and you can really feel that blend of perspectives in both their food and their hospitality.

There’s no fixed menu; just a kind of daily, evolving kitchen. You begin with meze and rakı, and for the main course it’s whatever fresh catch they have that day, often served simply, sometimes with their own twist on fish and chips.

As a cook, I’m not easily impressed, but this food was genuinely exceptional.

What stayed with me even more than the food, though, was the spirit behind it. Meral and Omar are both travelers and bikers, and as a biker and traveler myself, I connected with them instantly. There’s something very open, grounded, and borderless about them. From the moment you walk in, you feel at home, t felt less like visiting a restaurant and more like reconnecting with old friends I hadn’t seen in years.

Meral was also kind enough to share tips on beautiful spots along the road to #Fethiye, which made the journey even more special.

I think one of the greatest rewards of traveling is meeting people like this. They go beyond nationality, they’re simply, genuinely human.

Drove 650 km from #Doğubayazıt to #Kayseri in a single day, what a route. The scenery was stunning the whole way. #Turkey feels incredibly green and lush compared to #Iran, which is mostly desert aside from the northern and western regions. Funny contrast too: Turkey has little oil, while Iran has plenty, sometimes feels more like a curse than a blessing.

Road trip day 2

The only thing that kept me going during the war was cooking and experimenting in the kitchen—it helped my creativity flow and took the edge off the pain. But with no internet for nearly three months, I couldn’t share any of it on Nostr. So here it is now. #foodstr #grownostr

There was a lot of hassle at the border crossing with the car, but the view of Mount #Ararat shrouded in clouds made it all worthwhile. Road trip day 1

Set free, if only for a while, Beyond the border. Road trip day 1 #Iran #Turkey #Bazargan

#iran By Hanif Bahari

If I could step back and tell my younger self one thing: seize the moment however it comes. Don’t let the world dilute it. Take it in completely—leave nothing of the experience unfinished.

GN #nostr 🔥🍷🥩🥔 #foodstr #grownostr

#spring and other stuff transmitted successfully. #sourcherry #greenplum #grownostr

#Kashan - day 2 #Iran

Kashan day 1 - fabulous place #grownostr #kashan #nowrooz

Modi #dogstr

#iran #war By Mana Neyestani

بهار دلکش رسید و دل به‌جا نباشد. نوروز پیروز. ۲۵۸۵

Light finds its way back. #Nowruz Pirooz.

I was never really a fan of Trump. During his first term, I honestly thought he might end up messing things up globally, especially when it came to #Iran and the risk of war. When Biden took office, I felt relieved. But after four years, I found myself pretty disappointed with that choice.

At some point, my perspective shifted. Watching how things played out—especially around Iran and the growing risk of conflict—I started to feel like it’s one of those situations where you’re stuck choosing between bad options. Kind of like what some Iranians might be facing right now: choosing between war and the current regime staying in power. And in that kind of scenario, I’d choose war over the regime a hundred times. In the same way, I’ve reached a point where I’d pick Trump over left-leaning alternatives every time.

And now there’s this almost surreal phenomenon coming out of Iran. With every strike against the mullah regime, you see reports of people actually celebrating. Even during protests by the Iranian diaspora, the Israeli flag has been a constant presence. There’s a noticeable shift in sentiment—some people would rather see the country’s oil tied to the US and Israel than flowing toward China or Russia.

To put that into perspective, this is a country where naming streets after international figures—controversial or otherwise—has never really been off the table. You’ve got places like Nelson Mandela Boulevard and Argentina Square, alongside roads named after figures like Khalid al-Islambouli and even Henry Corbin.

So in that context, a bit of rebranding almost feels overdue. Swap out a few names, modernize the theme—why not? Khomeini Square becomes “Trump Square,” maybe a polished “Bibi Alley,” a “Lindsey Graham Road,” and for a more symbolic touch, something like “Abraham Lincoln Carrier” to really capture the spirit of freedom delivered, quite literally, offshore. At that point, it’s not even satire anymore—it’s just urban planning catching up with the times.

From where I stand, it looks like the future of the Middle East could involve a strong alignment between Iran, the US, and Israel. That’s something many Muslim-majority countries—especially in the Gulf, as well as Turkey—might view with concern. A secular, democratic Iran could pose a real challenge to their economies in particular.

Something remarkable is happening in #Iran right now. In the aftermath of state violence—after young protesters are killed—many families are choosing to mourn in a way that quietly breaks expectations. They still wear black. The grief is visible. The loss is undeniable. But instead of ritual lamentation and orchestrated weeping, you hear percussion. You see clapping. And then, you see dance.

Some call it a “dance of mourning.” And no, it’s not denial. It’s not a party. It’s something far more layered—and far more powerful.

To understand why this matters, you have to understand the backdrop. For over four decades, the Islamic Republic has cultivated a very specific aesthetic of grief. Mourning has been stylized, ritualized, and politicized. Public sorrow often comes with a script—chants, elegies, martyrdom imagery. Grief, in many ways, has been choreographed.

What these families are doing is stepping out of that choreography.

They haven’t abandoned sorrow. The black clothing remains. Faces are heavy. The air carries that unmistakable density of fresh loss. But then the rhythm begins—hands striking drums, palms meeting in unison. Bodies begin to move. Not wildly. Not euphorically. But deliberately.

When a mother dances at her child’s funeral, she isn’t saying she doesn’t hurt. The pain is right there, visible in every gesture. But she’s also saying something else: You don’t get to own this moment. You don’t get to turn my child into your symbol. You don’t get to dictate how I love, how I grieve, how I remember.

That shift changes everything.

Rituals are never neutral. They carry power. They shape meaning. When people alter the ritual—even slightly—they alter the story. By introducing rhythm and collective clapping into spaces long dominated by lamentation, these families reclaim authorship. The body itself becomes a statement. It says: you may have taken a life, but you will not define it.

There’s something deeply human happening here, too. Trauma freezes the body. It locks grief inside the chest. Rhythm does the opposite—it moves energy. It synchronizes people. It creates a pulse that says, we are still here. The scenes are haunting precisely because they hold contradiction so openly: black clothes, tearful eyes, and yet steady percussion echoing through the space.

It’s not joy replacing sorrow. It’s sorrow finding motion.

In many cultures, funerals include music or even dance. But in Iran’s current context, this carries extra weight. When a state has spent decades promoting a singular, sanctified model of mourning, any deviation becomes quietly political. Choosing percussion over prescribed lament becomes symbolic independence. It signals that culture isn’t fixed. It isn’t owned.

And maybe that’s the most striking part. This isn’t loud resistance. It’s not slogans or confrontation. It’s intimate. It’s about reclaiming meaning at the moment of farewell.

The message feels clear: yes, you caused this loss. Yes, the grief is real. But we refuse to let death dictate the entire atmosphere. We refuse to let darkness be the only language available to us.

There’s a melancholic gravity in these gatherings. The dancing isn’t celebratory in a shallow way. It carries weight. It honors the wound. But it also insists that the person who was lost was alive—vibrant, rhythmic, embodied. And so they are remembered in motion, not only in silence.

That’s why this phenomenon feels so powerful. It holds two truths at once: profound sorrow and unbroken dignity. It doesn’t erase grief. It reshapes it.

Sometimes resistance isn’t about shouting louder. Sometimes it’s about changing the rhythm—while still dressed in black—and moving anyway.

#dance_of_mourning

Milad Tower #tehran 📸

Brotherhood… terms and conditions apply.

#iran

Long read. But I hope you’ll stay with it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about anger.

About what it does to people.
About what it turns into.

When people lose their country, their safety, sometimes their loved ones, anger is not surprising. It’s human. It doesn’t belong to one nationality, one religion, or one region. Pain produces anger everywhere.

The real question is not who feels anger.
The real question is: what does that anger become?

Over the past years, I’ve watched many Iranians in the diaspora protest, organize, lobby, write, speak, march. I’ve seen grief in their faces. I’ve heard stories of prison, of loss, of exile. The anger is real.

And yet, what stands out to me is this:

That anger rarely turns into destruction of the societies that hosted them.

It turns into something else.

It turns into demands.
Into petitions.
Into organized rallies with permits.
Into meetings with lawmakers.
Into carefully written op-eds.
Into human chains and candlelight vigils.

It turns into claim‑making.

Why?

Part of the answer lies in political identity. Many Iranians who left after the revolution — and especially those who left more recently — did not simply migrate for economic reasons. They left because of political repression. Because of compulsory ideology. Because of a system where religion and state were fused, and dissent was punished.

When you experience political Islam as a governing force, it often changes how you think about religion in politics. For many in the diaspora, identity becomes less about religious belonging and more about civil rights, citizenship, and dignity.

“Iranian” becomes cultural, historical, linguistic.
Not theological.

That shift matters.

When your political framework is rooted in secular democratic ideals — even if you are personally religious — you don’t see the host country as a civilizational enemy. You see it as a space. An imperfect one, yes. But a space where speech is possible. Where protest is legal. Where the police are not automatically instruments of ideological enforcement.

And something subtle happens in that space.

A social contract forms.

When people feel that their dignity is recognized, that they can speak without disappearing, that their children can grow up without fear of morality patrols or prison sentences for tweets — they don’t want to burn that space down.

They want to use it.

To advocate.
To pressure.
To persuade.
To mobilize public opinion.

A migrant who feels protected often becomes protective of the system that protects them.

We saw a powerful example of this recently in Australia. During a violent attack, a Muslim man put himself at risk to help disarm the attacker. Afterwards, the Prime Minister described him as “a true Australian.” In that moment, identity was defined not by origin or religion, but by action — by the choice to protect the very society that had offered protection.

This doesn’t mean anger disappears. It doesn’t mean trauma evaporates. It means anger is channeled.

Disciplined.

Directed.

There’s another layer too: integration.

Many Iranian migrants, particularly in Europe and North America, are highly educated and professionally integrated. They build businesses. They work in medicine, academia, tech, art. They are economically woven into the fabric of their host societies.

Belonging changes behavior.

Where belonging is weak, alienation can grow. Where alienation grows, identity can harden. In some communities around the world, especially among second- or third-generation migrants who feel neither fully accepted nor fully connected to ancestral homelands, anger can become untethered. Ideology can step in to provide clarity, pride, even superiority.

But where belonging is stronger, anger is more likely to be translated into civic participation.

And this is what fascinates me most:

The transformation.

Grief becomes organization.
Rage becomes rhetoric.
Trauma becomes testimony.
Exile becomes advocacy.

Instead of attacking the nearest symbol of power, the energy is redirected toward the source of injustice back home — through sanctions debates, human rights campaigns, media work, coalition building.

This is not moral superiority. It’s political culture shaped by experience.

When you flee a system where power was absolute and unaccountable, you begin to understand the value of institutions, however flawed. You understand courts. Due process. Free press. Civil society.

You don’t romanticize them — but you recognize their absence.

And so anger becomes structured.

It becomes a demand for accountability.
A demand for freedom.
A demand for dignity.

Not a fire for the sake of fire.

I don’t think this transformation is about ethnicity. Or about being inherently “better.” And it certainly isn’t about painting entire religions or populations with a single brush. Human beings are more complex than that.

I think it’s about what framework holds your anger.

If your framework tells you the world is divided between believers and enemies, anger may look one way.

If your framework tells you legitimacy comes from citizens, rights, and law, anger looks different.

It becomes civic.

And maybe that is one of the most powerful — and least discussed — stories of exile:

That people who were pushed out by repression sometimes become some of the most disciplined practitioners of democratic claim‑making.

Not because they are calm.
Not because they are not hurting.

But because they have learned, painfully, what happens when anger is monopolized by power instead of channeled by rights.

And so they choose — deliberately — to turn rage into a voice.

Not a riot.

A demand.

#nostr #iran

#BBC News just labeled the Iranian regime’s 22 Bahman (Feb 11) rally a “family festival.”

Let that sink in.

22 Bahman is not a celebration. It marks the anniversary of the 1979 Islamic Revolution — the moment that ended freedom in Iran and ushered in decades of repression, executions, censorship, and state violence. For the regime, it is a carefully staged display of loyalty; for millions of Iranians, it symbolizes the loss of their country.

Framing this day as a “family festival” normalizes an authoritarian regime while conveniently ignoring the recent massacre of tens of thousands of protesters whose only crime was demanding basic rights and freedom. This isn’t neutral journalism — it’s propaganda laundering.

It’s misleading. It’s deeply insensitive. And it legitimizes state violence and mass murder.

Worse, it mocks the very struggle Western values claim to be built on: the fight for freedom, dignity, and human life. If freedom matters — and it does — this kind of coverage must be called out.

People deserve truth, not sanitized narratives that protect power and erase victims. #AyatollahBBC #nostr

Ayatollah BBC

#GM #nostr

Valentine’s Day. Iran. 40,000 deaths for liberty. Love, paid in blood.

I don’t know if you’ve heard about the Huda Beauty situation or not, but here’s the story. This brainless influencer shared a video from a pro–Islamic Republic regime march where people were tearing up photos of Trump and the Israeli flag. Almost immediately after that, a campaign to throw away Huda Beauty makeup went viral, and—unbelievably—her stock tanked as well. Then Huda comes out and says she “didn’t know what she was posting” and wasn’t aware of the real context behind it. A perfect example of how influencers don’t just lack empathy, but also lack the brainpower to tell right from wrong. She tried to strike a left‑liberal pose and ended up backing the terrorist Islamic Republic regime, just because it’s anti‑Israel. And yes, Huda Beauty comes across as openly antisemitic.

Iran Blackout Massacre — personal record.

During the blackout, this was my whole world:

One screen. One satellite channel. Opinion-heavy coverage. Competing narratives. No messages. No updates from friends. No way to verify the numbers being reported.

Between fragments, footage, and talking heads, I kept looking for something solid.

Mostly, I waited.

Waiting to learn how many people had died. Waiting to see if things would escalate into open war. Waiting for anything that could cut through the silence and feel reliable.

Hours stretched into days.

Anxiety became routine. Stress turned into background noise. Sleep disappeared.

Every night: half-awake. Every morning: unfinished.

Not knowing was worse than knowing.

The quiet was heavy. The uncertainty was louder than any headline.

This isn’t analysis. This isn’t politics. It’s memory.

This is what digital darkness felt like.

#iran

Many so-called “leftist” activists love to preach about human rights. But in reality, their morality is selective, political, and deeply hypocritical.

Here are 9 uncomfortable truths: 1. They stay silent when Islamist or authoritarian regimes murder their own people — like in Iran — but scream when the West is involved. 2. When Muslims kill Muslims, it’s suddenly “complex.” No outrage. No urgency. No solidarity. 3. Antisemitism is tolerated in their circles. Jewish lives don’t seem to matter as much. Dead kids in Gaza trend. Dead kids in Ukraine don’t. Apparently, not all children are equal. 4. They are obsessed with being “anti-West,” even if it means defending dictators and extremists. 5. They fear being called “Islamophobic” more than they fear injustice. 6. Their empathy is selective. Some victims get headlines. Others get erased. 7. Most of them are intellectually lazy. They repeat slogans, follow trends, and never think beyond hashtags. 8. Greta and influencers like her are part of the problem: loud against the West, quiet about China, Iran, Russia, and real oppression. 9. They talk about justice, but practice double standards. They talk about equality, but rank human lives.

This isn’t activism. This isn’t morality. This is ideological tribalism.

They don’t stand for humans. They stand for narratives.

And if your compassion depends on politics, you don’t have compassion at all.

Human lives are not props. Human suffering is not a trend.

Enough hypocrisy.

امروز بدنم خسته است، قلبم سنگین است، اما هنوز می‌تپد.

GM #nostr

Six months ago I wrote about Iranians rising against tyranny. That desire for freedom hasn’t faded—it’s everywhere, in millions of people who are simply done with fear and submission.

There’s no single “easy” action that fixes this. Writing to representatives may feel useless, posting may feel small—but silence helps the regime far more than imperfect support ever could.

What does matter is pressure, visibility, and refusal to normalize this regime. Talk about Iran. Share verified voices from inside the country. Push media, NGOs, platforms, and governments to stop pretending this is “business as usual.”

We don’t ask the free world to fight for us—only to stand with us and not look away. The desire for freedom here is real, deep, and irreversible.

#Iran

خاطره‌ای در ذهنم مانده است: چند سال پیش، در جمع دوستانی از دوران دانشجویی که همگی خارج از ایران تحصیل کرده‌اند و در دسته “طبقه متوسط تحصیل کرده” قرار میگیرند، صحبت از حمایت من از دودمان پهلوی شد. واکنش همه‌شان نگاهی آمیخته به تعجب و تمسخر بود؛ با لبخندی کنایه‌آمیز میگفتند: “ما که مدتهاست از پهلوی عبور کرده‌ایم!” به آنها گفتم: “فاصله‌ی پنجاه‌ساله‌ی حاکمیت آخوندی در برابر دوهزار و پانصد سال شاهنشاهی، چیزی در حد یک عطسه است و مطمئنم روزی همگی شگفت‌زده می‌شوید وقتی بفهمید مردم خیلی وقت است که انتخاب خود را کرده‌اند.” پهلوی ستیزی یک بیماری لاعلاج نیست؛ ریشه‌اش بیشتر در ناآگاهی تاریخی و کینه‌های به‌جامانده است؛ کینه‌هایی که گاه از این می‌آید که گاه فلان عمو یا دایی چپ‌گرا در دوران پهلوی زندانی بوده، در حالی که همان چپ‌ها و مجاهدین بعدها به دست آخوندها سلاخی شدند. همین دوستان به ظاهر فرهیخته که امروز به هویت ایرانی مدرن خود می‌بالند، بهتر است به یاد بیاورند که آنچه امروز به عنوان فرهنگ و هنر مدرن به آن افتخار می‌کنند، حاصل تلاش‌های بی‌وقفه‌ی رضا شاه کبیر، شاه فقید ایران و شهبانو فرح پهلوی است. امیدوارم روزی از این پیش‌فرض‌ها رها شویم و دشمن واقعی این سرزمین را درست بشناسیم؛ دشمنانی که چیزی جز سه جریان فاسد نیستند:  ملا، چپی، مجاهد.

‌پاینده ایران. دی‌ماه ۲۵۸۵.

Today, Iran lost one of its true giants.

Bahram Beyzayi was not just a filmmaker or a playwright — he was a national conscience. A man who carried the weight of history, myth, and truth on his shoulders, and never set it down, no matter the cost.

“Bashu, the Little Stranger” remains one of the most humane films ever made in this land. Created in the middle of the Iran–Iraq war, it refused the language of hatred and destruction. Instead, it spoke for children, for the displaced, for those whose lives are shattered by war. It was a brave, clear cry for peace at a time when silence was safer.

Beyzayi never bowed to power. He did not compromise, he did not flatter, and he did not submit to censorship. For that courage, he paid with years of exclusion and exile. In the final decades of his life, far from home, he continued his work and research at Stanford University, carrying Iran’s stories, myths, and wounds with him wherever he went.

He lived with dignity, and he created with responsibility. He taught us that art is not decoration — it is memory, resistance, and truth.

Today, we mourn not only an artist, but a guardian of Iranian culture. A national hero whose voice will never fade.

Rest in peace, Bahram Beyzayi. Iran remembers.

This chart isn’t “economic misfortune.” It’s theft.

In the 1970s, before the Islamic Revolution, 1 USD bought ~7 Iranian rials. Today it buys 1,300,000+.

That collapse wasn’t an accident. It was designed.

They printed. They stole. They lied. You paid.

A state–clerical mafia took control of the money and used it to fund itself: endless proxy wars, patronage networks, repression, and corruption so deep it burned the future of an entire generation. While young people lost opportunity, mobility, and hope, the regime exported inflation and imported violence.

This is how it works:

Print money to fund power Debase savings to hide failure Push the cost onto citizens Wrap it in ideology You worked → they debased. You saved → they inflated. You stayed → they robbed you slowly.

This isn’t unique to Iran. This is fiat money behaving exactly as designed when captured by unchecked power.

Opt out. #Bitcoin exists.

No slogans needed — just facts: fixed supply, no central printer, no permission, no insiders. You hold it yourself or not at all. No cleric, general, or bureaucrat can dilute it to pay for their wars.

#Bitcoin doesn’t fix corrupt states. It cuts them off from their favorite weapon: the value of your labor.

If your money can be printed, it will be stolen. #bitcoin isn’t an investment. It’s an exit.

Friday #foodstr

#foodstr

Luna #dogstr

در مزرعه، هوا دیگر قابل نفس‌کشیدن نبود و جویبارها خشکیده. انبارها خالی، دل‌ها تهی.

خوک‌ها دوچندان می‌خوردند و سگ‌های هارشان هر اعتراضی را می‌جویدند.

حیوانات عادی می‌دانستند: تقابل بعدی نزدیک است؛ و این‌بار، مزرعه طعم خون را خواهد چشید.

#مزرعه_خاموش #حیوانات_خسته #هوای_سنگین

#foodstr

AML, CFT, MiCA, AMLA — the alphabet soup of control.

They say it’s about “security.” They say it’s about “protecting the system.” What they mean is: they want every coin, note, and byte under surveillance.

A €10K cash limit today, KYC on every wallet tomorrow, “digital euro” the next day. Piece by piece, they’re weaponizing compliance until privacy itself is illegal.

Big Brother in a suit, holding a spreadsheet instead of a gun.

This is Financial 1984, executed by central bankers and endorsed by the bureaucrats who sold their citizens for data.

They can ban cash. They can license “approved” wallets. They can track every transaction. But they can’t stop Bitcoin.

Bitcoin is math. Bitcoin is freedom code. Bitcoin doesn’t need permission, doesn’t ask forgiveness, and doesn’t care about their decrees.

It’s time for Europeans to wake up — the cage they’re welding is digital, invisible, and permanent.

Run your node. Hold your keys. Trade peer to peer. Stay ungovernable.

#bitcoin #nostr

Do you even know what this is, anon? Are you really that old? Big reward for the best answers. #grownostr

45 years ago, Iran’s light dimmed under red flags and black turbans. The mix of Sharia and socialism poisoned prosperity. #Bitcoin is the antidote to all ideological poison — sound money for a free people.

4 days deep in the northern jungles of #Iran, near a silent lake. Rain, mud, fire, and freedom. Out here everything’s real, raw, and honest—just like #Bitcoin. Autumn camping proves it’s the best season to feel alive and free. 🍂⚡️ #grownostr #nostr

Salad #foodstr

Fish & Chips #foodstr

GM #nostr

Fried eggs, blue cheese + cheddar, basturma salad and bread — fuel for a long Muay Thai session. Let’s get those serotonin, dopamine and endorphins flowing. Have a pumpy day! 🥚🧀🥩🥬🍅🥖🥊⚡️ #foodstr

T‑bone, scotch, and a 124K #Bitcoin — perfect combo. If you’ve been stacking since the ’22–’23 dip, this one’s for you. Salute, champ. Keep DCAing and enjoy the rewards. 🚀🥩🥃 #foodstr

I’ve spent half my life either owning dogs or treating my friends’ pups like family, and there’s truly no creature that gives love and affection like a dog — completely, immediately, and without asking anything in return. They are masters of living in the now: a walk becomes the greatest adventure, a simple snack a celebration, a nap on a warm lap pure contentment.

Thirteen years ago my female Rottweiler died at age ten, and that loss taught me how short our time with them can be. #Luna is a beautiful reminder of everything I’ve learned from dogs: to notice the little things, to savor small moments, and to be fully present.

The most important thing I’ve realized — and it’s something dogs have shown me more clearly as the years pass — is this: tell your loved ones you love them. Say it often. Say it out loud. Exchange your love freely, because our time is short and theirs with us is even shorter. Pets give us everything in the moment; let’s return that love while we still can.

Our time is short, but our love is endless. #dogstr #bestie

That’s why we #nostr, GM.

Diamond Balls forever #bitcoin

Parenting with paw-sitive energy 🐾🐶 #Luna #dogstr

#Luna always gives it her all. She never gets food from the table, but you gotta respect the hustle. 🍽️🐾✨

#foostr #dogstr #Luna #nostr

“A #keffiyeh in a broken frame. Some resistances are true, some are staged. The frame can shatter, but the cloth still hangs.”

During my stay in Istanbul for the Bitcoin++ conference, I stayed with a Palestinian friend. He welcomed me with such kindness that I’ll never forget — a reminder that our shared humanity is stronger than borders and politics.

But in many conversations, I noticed something troubling. People from around the world praised the Iranian regime, calling it the “only country resisting the US and Israel.” Their anger at Israel’s brutality in Gaza was raw and justified — the killing of children is unbearable.

Yet as an Iranian, I must tell another truth: this so-called “resistance” is a lie. The Iranian regime is not a hero standing against oppression — it is itself one of the greatest oppressors in our region. Inside Iran, it kills protesters, executes children, jails women for showing hair, silences every free voice, and robs generations of a future.

People outside often romanticize Iran as a symbol of defiance. But they don’t live under it. They don’t feel the fear, the censorship, the prisons, or the graves of our brightest youth. They mistake dictatorship for dignity.

Yes — Israel’s crimes in Gaza are real. But so are Iran’s crimes against its own people. And if we truly care about justice, we cannot choose which lives matter. The children of Gaza deserve life. So do the children of Iran, Ukraine, and Afghanistan.

True solidarity is not selective. It doesn’t excuse one regime’s brutality because it opposes another. Real resistance is about freedom and dignity for all people.

So please — don’t romanticize the regime that has turned Iranians into prisoners in their own land. Stand with the people, not the dictators. Because if our solidarity is selective, then it is not solidarity at all.

#free_iran #free_palestine

#haifa

Urban #artstr #istanbul

“He who loves the homeland, honors it with deeds.”

Sacred halls to virtue and to study The Italian Workers’ Society with that love with which it promoted and cared for the rise of this place, on this marble has inscribed for you the golden maxim by which it is ennobled. A reminder of itself to you it has engraved, and you—engrave it in your hearts.

Constantinople, January 1, 1901

Pass the doobie

GM #nostr Currently in #istanbul — looking to swap some sats for #try Peer to peer, the way Bitcoin was meant to be. If you’re around and up for a P2P swap, let’s connect. Reposts appreciated — sound money grows peer to peer.

#asknostr

#istanbul

Hello from my private relay ✨

#foodstr #dogstr 🥑🧀🥬🥩🍞

#foodstr

When your partner surprises you with a cake that’s basically your soul in edible form—filled with your passions, quirks, and obsessions—you know you’re truly seen, deeply loved, and delightfully spoiled!

And yes, #bitcoin always steals the spotlight—well, right after the Royal Enfield, of course…

Nothing sobers you up like crepes, berries, bananas… and just a little more wine. Balance, baby. 🍷🍫🍌 GM #nostr #foodstr