I was once at an event in the middle east for Iranian travelers at a major celebration, and I remember how morose their faces were. I recognized in their eyes the same familiar universal depression of every major city in the U.S. during the past four years. Theirs was even worse, even more serious, like their souls had been stolen from them, as if they were all suffering an all-consuming heartbreak. They were there, but not really. They were longing for something that had been lost. There was music, but only a couple children danced. Everyone mostly ate in somber silence. My friend was the bellydancer at the event, and I watched the men watch her with visible giggly discomfort, grown adult men behaving like young children, while the women didn't seem bothered at all by her and clapped in support. It was all a very interesting experience. To the men she was an alien they were ashamed to look at. Her incredible art and talent, nothing more to them than a comical blasphemy, or at least that's how they concealed their arousal, their awkward weakness. To me it looked like male sexual immaturity, profoundly stunted for their age. The vibe of the women was like, right on sister, you're beautiful, werk girl!
It was an interesting experience to observe.
12:00 p.m. - 2020-12-01