There is something embarrassing in our lives, as if we live in an endless suspension, pendent in the air. Maybe that is why our settlements look like stockrooms not a city or a village. Even newly constructed buildings or blocks, after a while, become part of this unfinished, deserted warehouse-like texture.

During half a century, we have seen many abandoned old cities cut into pieces, ruined historical sites, and abandoned villages. In big cities — more accumulated day by day — even newly constructed sectors suffer this incompleteness and warehouse appearance. Jammed streets without sidewalks, residential quarters surrounded by highways, shops with no resting space... all testify this protracted concept of ours. Even small towns, although saved from the controller's measure, have been left abandoned, consequence of vast emigration caused by economic crisis.

The chaos confronts Iran's old civilization distinguished by precision and elaboration, displayed in its manner and cultural heritage: building, costume, carpet weaving, calligraphy, cooking, tiling, mirror works, watering system... This precision includes elements as small as a simple wooden door latch, designed in harmony with everyday life.

But in recent decades, the overwhelming greedy manner, most regretfully with the approval of those who claimed to be the guardians of this prestigious legacy, has shifted to the land as well as other natural and cultural resources, delivering the final stroke to the remains of this glorious civilization.

The situation calls for reflection. Those in charge, from whatever position, should bear in mind that cultural resources, once destroyed, cannot be restored, and that the continuation of this suspension chaos threatens the very foundations of our collective identity.