Aras and Mohammad did not make it to the derby.

Aras and Mohammad did not make it to the derby. 🔹He adjusts his mobile camera, plays the Persepolis song, steps back to fit completely in the frame, and dances childishly. 🔹When I was a child, my heart raced a week before the derby, and I marked the days on the calendar waiting for the fateful day. They must have been like that too. Mohammad and Aras fell asleep every night with their two-layer plastic ball, wishing to one day wear the shirt of their beloved team; to step onto the green grass of Azadi, shake the goal net, and hear the roar of a hundred thousand people shouting their names. 🔹But this is the first derby after the war. As the referee's whistle sounds, the stadium is drowned in chaos, but in Mohammad and Aras's room, the folded shirts for the match day gather dust in heavy silence. This is the first derby where two Tifosi fans of the red and blue teams are not sitting on the carpet in front of the TV to tease each other and jump in excitement. 🔹The 'precision-strike' missile of the uncles shattered all these dreams. 9 Esfand, the U.S. targeted their school not once, but twice, leaving their share of the green grass of Azadi as nothing but an eternal dream in the cold soil. 🔹Today we mourn the unfulfilled dreams. We will not forget you. Today, every shot, every corner, and every goal scored is met with applause in your place, and we watch the game with your eyes. Mohammad Luqmani and Aras Ahmadizadeh, you are absent in the stands or behind the TV, but today you sit in the hearts of all supporters. Forever.