I was born in 1998, in Dab-bakh-lar neighborhood – literally “tanners’ district” in Azeri – in Zanjan, northwest Iran. They processed animal hides there once, but not by the time I was growing up. My dad was training to be a doctor; my mom taught high school natural sciences. So I grew up curious about science and stuff.

At 14, I passed the entrance exam for “Sampad” – Iran’s national high school for “shining talents”. (Yes, it sounds cringe. That’s the translation.) In Iran, high school ends with the “Konkur” – the national university entrance exam. I ranked 1747th in my group (I like that number – 747). That got me into Iran University of Science and Technology (IUST) (founded in 1929 in Tehran as Iran’s first engineering institution, originally named the Governmental Technical Institute) for Mechanical Engineering – specifically, Rolling Stock Engineering (focused on railroad vehicles).

During my bachelor’s, I felt something linger in me. I wanted to create – to “make a dent in the universe” as Steve Jobs put it. I got drawn to design. Started with engineering design: parts, small machines. The further I went, the more I wanted broader design paradigms – not just engineering. So I took the master’s Konkur for Industrial Design. Scored first in theory, fourth overall. Got into University of Tehran – one of Iran’s “big three”.

There, I realized design is more than form. Every object – even non-designed ones – has a non-physical layer. A soul. I found myself drawn to that very soul more than its physical shape. (I also met my wonderful girlfriend there – who, like me, started with engineering but ended up in design, now a product designer at MCI, Iran’s largest communication company.)

From around 25-26, this sense began to grow inside me slowly that: Hay! You knew nothing about the world until now. You spent years staring outside —but you must have looked inside. That’s life’s brutal irony: To see the world outside, to live “out there” one has to look inside, to feel what’s happening “in here”.

“The eyes face outward but the ocular lays inside.”

And that’s when it hit me: Holy cow. I’d been dead until this very long moment. I was born again—right then. At 27. It took me 27 years to get out of “my” uterus. I stood there, thinking:

“Was that life? Well then… Once more.”

Once more being born. Once more growing up. Once more tasting everything. But this time being there, all of you.Once more, that’s the beginning of my story.