Bridges have always been inspiring to me. Paris has always left me thrilled for its bridges over Seine River rather than its Eiffel Tower. I love Prague for its Charles Bridge rather than Arm Tower or Old Town Square. So, when I imagine myself as Isfahan, Siyosepol turns into my beating heart through which Zayand-e Rud River crosses like artery. I must claim that I’m in love with Siyosepol more than any other symbol in Isfahan, because it connects the Chaharbagh below to the one above—because I can stand under its domes and gaze at Zayand-e Rud River for hours—because every single one of its bricks smells of Iran, Isfahan, and Safavid era.
And because Siyosepol, the beating heart of the city, is a trysting place where lovers meet. I have always wished to have my house located in Chaharbagh below and my workplace in the one above. And I have always wished to walk past Siyosepol every morning at 7 o’clock, crossing thousands of pedestrians before getting myself to work.
And because Siyosepol, the beating heart of the city, is a trysting place where lovers meet. I have always wished to have my house located in Chaharbagh below and my workplace in the one above. And I have always wished to walk past Siyosepol every morning at 7 o’clock, crossing thousands of pedestrians before getting myself to work.