These journal fragments offer a glimpse into the mind of a writer navigating personal trauma, cultural displacement, exile, and the refuge of literature. They move between philosophy, memory, daily observation, dreams, and the necessity of writing during times of crisis.
Written during the spring of 2026, in the shadow of war and uncertainty, these notes reflect an intellectual life shaped by both external turmoil and inner resistance. In a small café near Frankfurt’s Hauptwache, Najafi gathers with friends to begin a collective reading of Thus Spoke Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche, seeking in philosophy a temporary refuge from the relentless news of violence and destruction.
His reflections move from the streets and trams of Frankfurt to comparisons between Immanuel Kant and Saadi, between the inward journey of Hafez and the outward wandering of great travellers and writers. He asks whether wisdom belongs to disciplined stillness or to movement, travel, and encounter, ultimately confessing his own preference for Saadi’s road over Kant’s room.
Ordinary moments become material for story: an unexpected conversation with a stranger on a tram, a remark about unpolished shoes, a son misreading his father’s thoughtful silence as anger. Even dreams become part of the writer’s workshop—recurring visions of labyrinths, forgotten addresses, and the impossible search for home reveal the deeper condition of exile and suspension between Iran and elsewhere.
At the centre of these pages stands a persistent question: how should one live, read, and write while history itself feels unstable? Najafi turns to books not as escape, but as a form of endurance. His return to The Glass Bead Game by Hermann Hesse becomes both literary criticism and a personal response to crisis, echoing Hesse’s own confrontation with the darkness of Europe in earlier times.
On the Necessity of Writing
“Journaling is the most natural act for a writer. It is a kind of photography with words, preserving memory while also providing the raw material for future stories, essays, and reflection. Since the horrific events of last winter and the outbreak of war, my life, like that of many Iranians, could not remain the same. Is writing as therapy effective? I doubt it. This wound will never fully heal.”
To read the full journal in Farsi, please click here:
“Reading Zarathustra in Frankfurt”