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Mohsen Keiany
" I grew up in a culture of fighting. When 13, the fever of war was very hign. All the television programmes were dominated by war news and this affected our lives.I left school aged 14 and went to the front line with many other classmates.
My senses were drenched by explosions, shooting, bullets, voices, the reek of gunpowder, intolerable heat and dry sand. My best friend's face was shattered, he held onto my arms and I waited for his last breath. Wounded soldiers begged for help with their eyes. I walked on dead bodies. Everywhere there were screams, bleeding, the smell of garlic, chemical bombs and gas masks. I was injured 3 times but survived, my mother prayed for me all the time.
I was a soldier for more than 2 years. War finished when I was 17. I came back home from war but was a stranger to everyone - even my mother. I became mentally ill. My doctor was a simple Sufi and painting became my medication. He gave me a spiritual prescription and wanted me to record my memories in paint and share them with other people."

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