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I didn鈥檛 want you to know I was a bad man! All these years I have believed it, but you know what? (He grasps Hamid by his shirt, clinging on.) Maybe I鈥檓 not so bad? Maybe we鈥檙e not bad! (He falls back on the pillows, letting go of Hamid.) You鈥檝e never been a bad son, just a fool. We鈥檙e all fools! And do you know Hamid? I think it鈥檚 a good thing to be! (He grips hold of Hamid鈥檚 shirt pulling himself up.) Can you believe I committed adultery? (Hamid shakes his head.) Well I did, for seven weeks! I met a beautiful girl each morning under a mulberry tree. I remember the mulberries still cool from the night air, shaken from an old tree heavy with deep red mulberries. She and I stood together watching them fall. We could just taste each mulberry as they fell on the snow-white shawl I鈥檇 lain at the foot of the gnarled tree trunk. We devoured cool sweet juicy mulberries under an orange sky as the sun rose, our mouths smeared red as we lay by a silver stream on a white shawl stained red, and the wind stirred the leaves as they rustled and gently fluttered in the breeze. Was it wrong? How can it be wrong? (He lets go of Hamid and falls back on the pillows.)

[Hamid: It wasn鈥檛 wrong Dad...]

(He smiles.) It was the most wondrous thing. Something that wonderful can never be wrong! It all happened during the revolution, but we were found out and punished . . . Khomeini was in power by then. I was flogged鈥�. 100 lashes (He clutches Hamid鈥檚 shoulder.) But worse! A few days later some men threw acid in her face, it was all burnt away! She had no lips anymore, lips that were once sweet and red. (He traces Hamid鈥檚 lips.) Just think Hamid! Can you picture that? (He sits up again holding on to Hamid鈥檚 shirt.) Your mother was shamed, everyone knew, this girl lived on the same street as us. The school sacked me, I had nothing left, no job just shame. Was I bad? Was it my fault?

[Hamid: No Dad, it was never your fault, sh#t just happens...]

You see I never really loved your mother, I didn鈥檛 choose her, she didn鈥檛 choose me. If I had the chance I鈥檇 lie under the mulberry tree with that beautiful girl again and again, I don鈥檛 care how high the price is!... Why does there have to be a price? Don鈥檛 you see? (He grips Hamid鈥檚 shirt closer to him.) It was their fault! They made us pay! After we had to leave, came here to begin again, but your mother.... well she jumped, ended it, tsk. (He shakes his head remembering.) Over the balcony and tied the washing line round her neck. (He takes a deep breath and sighs.) All these years I鈥檝e been sick with guilt . . . but I鈥檓 not guilty am I?

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