I said, if I had wings of a dove I would fly away and be at rest.
I would go far away and take refuge in the desert.
I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest.
For I have seen misery and wickedness on Earth.
The universe is pregnant with inertia
and has given birth to time.
Where would I escape from your face?
And where would I go from your presence?
— Forugh Farrokhzad, The House is Black