Daria has written her first manuscript about falling in love with a mysterious girl called ‘abi’ [blue]. The night flowers in her garden hide the secrets of a country that has turned love stories into routine crime scenes.

For Maryam Tafakory, a film can have many lives and doesn’t need to be bound to a single medium or one mode of projection. A film can be fluid and take up many forms, based on its time and place of presentation. For Kassel Dokfest and the BALi Kino, Maryam Tafakory develops another iterating of her film MAST-DEL (17 Min., 2023), in which, in a performative reading, she tells us a story about forbidden bodies and desires inside and outside post-revolution Iranian cinema: Two women lie together in bed. As the wind bashes against the window, one recalls a past date to the movie theatre. The narrated scene cannot be conveyed through images. Layers of found and original footage are superimposed to fill in some of the cracks, the deletions, the limits of representation – a love song that would never pass through the censors. 源自：

After the revolution in 1979, Iran prohibited the depiction of men and women touching on the silver screen. Since then, directors have relied on every cinematic trick in the book to mirror the ecstatic release of tension through touch – but often it is the game of glances that is enough to set a scene ablaze. Nazarbazi collages these saturated cinematic moments into a poem about Iranian film, that also echoes our own time of physical distancing.