Golshan

Golshan, Golshan, Golshan... impeccable! A glorious sangria rose in a field of tulips! Silky letters on lips, this name leaves a delectable taste -- like the reddest, sweetest apple -- in my mouth. Staring at a blank space, a daydream, too, is stirring: a ghostly woman kneels to the ground to plant a seed in fresh soil. When the sun sets, and the stars and the moon paint light on the sky, she disappears and flowers sprout from the ground in mad abundance. Positively beguiling!