When I decided to leave Tehran and my home there to return to my birthplace, the place where my true home and city resided, I never imagined I would face such widespread devastation. The houses of my childhood lay in ruins. The streets of my youth were shattered. The neighborhoods of my past were destroyed. The very breath of the city felt foreign, and its people were lost, nearly impossible to find. The wetlands, the rice fields that once connected to the city, the orange groves, and the sacred Babol river (Babolrud) had transformed beyond recognition. It quickly dawned on me that I must capture whatever remnants remained through photographs and film. Now, bit by bit, this task is being undertaken. Yet, those who understand the importance of this endeavor are few and far between. I do not know how long I can continue this painstaking work, bit by bit.