In Gilaki, my mother tongue, Okhan means echo. Okhan means a sound that reached the sound source tardily after being reflected from an environment and is heard by the human ear, just like the events that occur in modern life with delay. The elements of modern life penetrate into our lives at intervals but lasting, so that they become a cycle of repetition of everyday life. At the same time, one finds themselves alone; the loneliness that is the feature and nature of living in the uncertain world. The foreworn man, who is seeking salvation and freedom in the depths of his soul, stops and succumbs because of this boredom. The conclusions and results of sociological, psychological and existential philosophy studies and finally individual explorations, and the culture and society governing the politics and social body of Iran, take control and charge of instincts and restrain them in a controlled manner by defining customs and boundaries related to religious ideologies. This is the beginning of an interconnected boredom originating from the essence of human who is inherently libertarian and longs for liberation. This is despite the fact that disobedience and deconstruction in this country means non-acceptance by the common culture of the society, leading to stagnation and retreat. “Yes, we will not fall out of this world. Now that we have stepped into this world, we are always in it,” Freud said in Civilization and its Discontents. What is a human being but a fluid element in the middle of the senses, born from the cavity of the womb and womanliness passing diagonally across the silent towers of men, where the endless lethargic elasticity of love is reflected as Okhan (echo) being proliferated in your cells and finally helps you and reminds you that you are suffering from the tragic invalidity of the sequence of not being reached, not being wanted, and being rejected, and what do you see as healing when there is no cure, except keeping on, or in the end, you demand death in the most possible desirable way ahead of time, and the rusted bell of inexistency roars that oh you who is relieved of suffering, the storm of loneliness swallowed your dream. We climb up the awe of hill of dreams and climb up and fall into the crag of the whirlpool of being and death as a rejected and drunken clown who has forgot laughing and making laugh… What you see in the present collection is Okhan of modern human’s frequent sufferings.