Memories of those days are a fresh and bleeding wound, painful and untreatable, and so, it's not a memory; November 2019 is a wound left by a brutal crime which gets deeper and bloodier with each passing day. The smell of gasoline faded in the very first hours of the protests, giving way to anger over brutal repression, to the dream of freedom and the will of people to overthrow the regime
People who were exasperated by forty years of tyranny of a brutal and inefficient regime took to the streets in those days, not only in one or two cities and provinces, all of Iran suddenly uprose, got angry, became one fist, with a lump in throat, and exploded and shouted they despised political religion, mullahs' politics, incompetence, corruption, suffocation, censorship, forced hijab, repressive Basij and IRGC, lies and theft, and Khamenei, and execution prison torture ... They despised:
We neither forget nor forgive
They killed children of this land
November was cold and black, no one still knows,in the cold of those days when the regime cut off all communication and ruled absolute blackness, exactly who was killed by the Basij and IRGC mercenaries, what their names were, where they came from, what their life dreams were. They buried them at night. They are afraid of the names and memories of the victims. May the memory of them be cherished!