That was a dream. To do anything in Esfahan is impossible. Esfahan is not Nasf Jahan anymore. The death, I gather, did not come about in a grand manner. Circumstances which led to the demise is not even worthy to be investigated by a private detective. Evoked in this context, word detective could engender a curiosity in the reader as to whether it was a normal death or a murder. Murder, a term which is generally considered synonymous with homicide,has to be stretched far too much if it is to be used in the context of civilizations. That misgiving apart,the pertinent point would rather be, whether finding the death actually was murder, would some how lent it an element of grandeur. Sipping herbal tea,and tracking the devious paths that lie over the vacuum left over by Esfahans, one would, perhaps, chance to glance on a reason why someone has to read Lolita in Tehran. Unexpected and almost bitter revelations are unavoidable collateral damage of thought process.

Postlude: "Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a field. I'll meet you there"