The spirit of life runs through the twists and turns of this city; the architectural twists that humans designed on the minarets, walls, fences and domes to connect to another world... the world of peace and stillness while also the world of chaos... This dreamlike world is the reflection of a femininity that was nipped in the bud, but kept struggling long enough to be reborn onto every row and every single tile built around here.
Mary Poppins came to Isfahan to show the world this microcosm’s magical colours and patterns and its very sources of rhapsody and extravagance.
The surreal world that has penetrated the minds of all living souls here... the world of immortals who suffocate themselves in calm and euphoria. The same people who were placed underground craving for a tranquil world, and have now resurfaced to behold the world of their own making. They are the walking dead with the normal pulse of life flowing through their existence... the life they set ablaze for the sake of fulfilling their dreams...
The women who turned the surreal of their own minds into real to unshackle themselves and set up a feminine universe of endless tranquility... They climbed up the lifeless fences and towers and rebuilt them into sparkling domes and columns...
They reversed the course of decline so as to live forever, and splashed colour on all these minarets and domes to spread the scent of calm and comfort across all tiles and cobbles.