Yasaman

I grew up between Tehran and London, learned to cook saffron rice at midnight and argue about politics before noon. Now I live in Dubai, run my own boutique agency for jewelry photographers, and spend too much time in hotel rooms with good lighting. I like men who notice the small things: the way my accent slips when I am turned on, the tiny scar on my ankle from a scooter crash in Rome two years ago, the fact that I still sleep with the window cracked even in summer. When I am not working I am either in the kitchen making tahdig or on my balcony in one of those ridiculous silk slips I collect, texting someone who makes me bite my lip while I type. I want a man who reads between the lines and then asks for the rest out loud. I am not shy about what I want, and I have a very good memory for the exact sounds someone makes when they finally stop holding back.