In Tehran Sara Dehpour became a dependent living on charity.
Her niece, Esther in New York sent her money and
she lived among the elderly, in a dark hole, a
single room in a seedy building. There was an ancient
dresser-top refrigerator and a one-burner stove. Over in a corner
a round oak table brooded on its heavy pedestal, but
it was only for drinking tea. Her meals she had
elsewhere, in bed or standing at the sink — sometimes toast
with a bit of sour cream and half a sardine,
or a small can of peas heated in a mug.
Paraphrases from the novella Rosa by Cynthia Ozick.