I walked over to the folks at Sergels Torg.. and asked what was going on in Farsi. there are roses and candles on the rainy marketplace. "24 people died" they said. So I start a slow swelling up of tears.. the lady I am talking to sees and embraces me.. the embrace causes a flood of tears. A small crowd gathers around me. I am able to control myself. They start talking of things here in Swedish with my dad, sparing me. Then they start Farsi again. and say.. the next time we see it each other it will be in Iran and we wont be wearing headscarfs. apparently they struck a cord. I start it up again.. to my embarassment. This time all these teenage girls (or small ladies as my cousin calls them) come up to me. Older people do too. They all start trying to say happy stuff to make me happy. I am now laughing and crying and there were probably people photographing me. They then tell my dad that they have kids too and they think I could get along with them and give me their numbers. My dad told me later that they thought I was in high school and the girls wanted to be my friends. I think it was the red face and swollen eyes. Maybe I wont get in trouble for photographing in Iran if I look like a kid?