On the first night of living in the dormitory, when all the bustle had ended, you lay your head on the pillow, feeling that the past life had passed. You, your home, and your family have somehow changed, as you sleep somewhere else alongside many strange faces. Another life has formed in the heart of your life, and one day, this new temporary life would come to an end. During my bachelor’s degree, I assumed two main roles: that of a student living in the dormitory and a documentary photographer, I was both an insider and an outsider. 
Looking at the sky, where stars exploded years ago, yet they are and are not, and the sky is still the same and not. 

Each room had its own unique culture; they were like different universes, realities, or possibilities. Time passes, students have gone, and the dormitory still is the same place, doing the same thing with other people. Living in a shared dormitory is akin to a significant life experience, comparable to losing a loved one, or having a baby. It’s the most similar thing to immigration, with one vital difference: when you end your time in the dormitory, you go back to your previous life, and something within you changes your identity or nature, but you may not even know what it is. I don’t know which one is a remnant from that time, Me who wrote this statement or just These photos. everything remains from that time and nothing remains. We are all here, but something else. Many friends and I began our bachelor’s education at 18, a time filled with contradictions and ambiguities in every aspect of our lives. The dormitory itself mirrored these contradictions and ambiguities in its nature. All of these layers combined to create a place that just could be described as ashy.

Iran, Isfahan| 2015 – 2017