As the lines open, I picture Tehran under its nocturnal dome, a sky not dark but dimmed, as if a giant thumb has pressed the horizon into a bruise.
The city breathes shallowly now. Pollution maps pulse in colors that feel less like data than…

As the lines open, I picture Tehran under its nocturnal dome, a sky not dark but dimmed, as if a giant thumb has pressed the horizon into a bruise.
The city breathes shallowly now. Pollution maps pulse in colors that feel less like data than…