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My grandfather, Ostaad Shojaeddin Shafa

Today is a sad day. Today, my beloved grandfather, Baba Shafa, passed away. My tears are rolling, my body is aching and my heart is heavy. This is a sad day. What a loss for entire generations. A man larger than life, relentless, never stopping, never shying away from putting pen to paper. One man, one fountain pen. He influenced the life of so many, with his fountain pen. He searched and wrote, he got angry and wrote - everytime he felt it, he wrote it. His fountain pen was his most powerful weapon. His only regret was to not have had time to write his latest book, that he just finished writing in Persian, in French. He passed away at home, in his bed, as he wanted. He knew his time was up, and did not want to go in the hospital. He was released from the hospital last Wednesday, and in the early hours of Saturday, April 17th, passed away in his home, in Paris.

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Bonjour Tristesse

C'est que, c'est lui qui m'a dit de le lire, ce livre. C'est lui, mon grand-père chéri, que je viens de perdre, qui m'a recommandé ce livre par Françoise Sagan. C'était le premier livre qu'elle écrivait. Mon grand-père, Ostaad Shojaeddin Shafa, que j'appelais Baba Shafa, m'a dit, vas-y, écris aussi. Je voudrais que les paroles soient de ta part, du  haut de tes 15 ans; dis-moi ton experience, ton départ du pays, comment tu as vécu la révolution, comment tu as vécu tous ces changements.

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2010 © Ostaad Shojaeddin Shafa

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