Fragment No. 37

Fragment #37: A Piece That Survived

When I first learned about the project “CulturalxCollabs - Weaving the Future”, I began to think of carpets that no longer lie peacefully inside homes—all the carpets buried beneath the debris of destroyed homes that once occupied the center of our houses in Iran, treated with dignity and respect. The inspiration for this reflection started with the twelve-day war between Iran and Israel on June 13, 2025. I remember seeing photos: houses collapsed under rubble and streets covered in dust. When fragment #37 arrived, I felt that this carpet was a small piece of a much larger story—a survivor of difficult days now divided into fragments, traveling to different places to create new narratives. I didn’t merely see it as a pattern or a textile; I felt something deeply familiar. It carries the warmth of home and family gatherings, childhood games, and quiet afternoon naps in sunny Iran.

I carefully placed this fragment beside my moving boxes because my life in Germany also felt fragmented at the time. My housing contract, visa, and job were all approaching their end, and it felt as if everything in my life was collapsing. I thought that if I could endure everything and survive until the new year, I would hopefully begin creating artworks with this carpet in the better days to come. However, the new year did not bring brighter days. Instead, it began with darkness and devastating news from Iran. Protests, violence, and the killing of innocent people filled the headlines on January 8th. Internet and phone connections were cut, leaving us in shock and silence. For migrants far from home, it felt as if we were dying a hundred times a day from the distance. We were still mourning and grieving this great sorrow when the war began again on February 28, 2026, and once more, there was silence—again no connection.

I turned 37 years old on the 25th of February, during a time marked by the massacre of my people in Iran by Islamic government and the newly started war. My 37th birthday was an interesting coincidence with the fragment #37. The story of this carpet reminds me of the journey of Iranian migrants, including myself. Our lives resemble this carpet: burned, damaged, and repaired, yet still ongoing. Torn into pieces and scattered across the world, each fragment carries a new story, marked by a wounded soul and unyielding hope. Although we are separated from where we truly belong, we still carry the colors and scents of our origin. Even when standing alone in a distant corner of the world, we continue to tell our story. For me, fragment #37 has become a witness. It speaks of homes that once existed and the objects that silently hold our histories. Even when covered in dust, the patterns remain, reminding us that a woven thread can survive even the heaviest ruins.

Hold me in your arms and ask me not what homeland is. بغل بگیر مرا و نپرس میهن چیست

Poet: Ramin Mazhar (رامین مظهر )