It had been eighteen years since I had last set foot in London, the city where the most bitter event of my life had taken place. After all these years, I promised myself I would forget everything and return to London. When I left Heathrow Airport and got a taxi, I headed towards a small, simple hotel in one of London’s back alleys that I had reserved for a few days. My goal during this short time was to find a home for myself. As I approached the narrow, quiet street where the hotel was located, I suddenly caught sight of a woman with golden hair. She was wearing a red coat and black stockings. At that moment, the whole world stopped for me. Memories of the past flashed before my eyes like a film playing at high speed, and I froze right there. I stood motionless next to an old building, like a statue. When I came to my senses, she was gone. I was bewildered and lost, not knowing what to do. Instead of going to the hotel, I went back to the street I had come from. I hailed a taxi and instinctively headed towards the famous London Eye. I had never planned to go there as soon as I arrived in London, but after seeing her, everything had been wiped from my mind.

It was my first year at university. I was studying electrical engineering at Brunel University in London. Everything was new to me, and I followed my courses with endless enthusiasm. Fatigue meant nothing to me, and I stayed up late at the library every night. Life was flowing, and everything seemed beautiful and joyful until Julia entered my life. A girl with golden hair, average height, and black stockings, who, whenever I saw her, seemed to encompass my whole world. She was also studying the same subject at the same university. One day, while looking for a book in the library, I saw that Julia had the very book in her hands. Without thinking, I approached her and said hello. She lifted her gaze from the book and smiled softly, a smile that felt like a beam of light shining on my heart. Her eyes were a shade of bright blue, eyes that seemed to hold everything within them. At that moment, I lost all sense of myself.

I came to my senses when she spoke: “Did you need something?” I swallowed hard and, with a trembling voice, said, “Do you need this book? I was looking for the same one.” She gave me a deep look, as if she had understood how mesmerized I was by her beauty. With that same gentle smile, she handed me the book. Then she took a pen from her pocket, wrote her number on a sheet of paper, and said, “Call me when you’re done with the book.” I took the number and stared at it, but when I looked up, she was already gone.

That brief encounter was the beginning of my relationship with Julia. The girl who gradually took up more and more space in my heart every day. She was the one who took me to the famous London Eye for the first time. She wanted to show me the “Eye of London.” Inside the Ferris wheel cabin, I told her, “No eye is as beautiful as yours.” She responded with a loud laugh. The days we walked through the rainy streets of London together were the golden moments of my life. Julia became everything to me; I was so attached to her that if I didn’t see her for a day, I would go crazy. Little by little, I learned all her preferences—from her favourite food to her preferred restaurants, and even the songs she liked.

One day, she asked me to play an Afghan song for her. I was surprised and asked, “But you don’t understand Farsi.” She smiled and said, “Translate it for me.” That day, Dawood Sarkhosh had just released his new album Parijo. I played the song Parijo for her and translated its lyrics. From that day on, she was no longer “Julia” to me; she had become “Parijo,” and every time I called her by that name, she would respond with a delightful laugh.

Another day, she chose the song Didamash (“I Saw Her”). As soon as the song began, a strange feeling awoke within me. Fear and anxiety filled my heart. Before the song ended, I stopped it and said, “I can’t. This song is too heavy.” Parijo, with her usual smile, said, “Are you afraid of losing me? Are you afraid you’ll see me again in an alley and lose your composure?” I paused for a moment and, with a lump in my throat, replied, “Yes. I’m afraid of that day—of the day when I see you and you don’t recognize me.”

Everything unfolded just as I feared. Julia, or rather Parijo, left me. Her departure was like a great disaster for me. I dropped out of university. For a while, I wandered the streets of London until I decided to escape from London altogether. I lived in San Francisco for eighteen years, and during all that time, I tried to forget her. But the more I tried, the less successful I was. After eighteen years, I decided to return to London, hoping to confront my memories and leave them behind. But the moment I saw her in that alley, all my plans fell apart. All my decisions were forgotten.

Now I was sitting in a taxi, heading towards the London Eye, while Dawood Sarkhosh’s voice echoed in my ears:

“Suddenly in the alley, I saw my unfaithful one And from joy, I lost my grip on my hands and feet I had told myself I must forget her But when I saw her, I forgot my own words.”