For four days now, the account of a simple, independent journalist on X has been suspended due to organized reporting.

It is enough to search for "Abdi Media" on Twitter to realize which political groups—those who promise the liberation of Iran—supported silencing an independent voice with accusations of "spreading lies," without even being able to prove a single false report, and participated in this virtual assassination project.

It is even more interesting if you pay attention to the exact texts: identical in theme, composition, and pattern, yet posted from various accounts!

Perhaps it was and remains regrettable that none of my media colleagues or digital activists addressed this issue; it seems as though it was of no importance to them that an independent voice existed and was stifled. Of course, among well-known activists with verified identities in this space, I have yet to see anyone express joy.

For me, however, breathing in this poisoned air is difficult—a world where those interested in hearing dreams and fantasies outnumber those interested in hearing the truth. Yet, a bit later, the addicts of those very dreams will be awakened by the slap of reality.

For someone like me, who is immersed in Iran's contemporary history and has experienced and continues to experience politics through multiple lenses—not in books, but through the direct words of its creators—I do not know for how long breathing in such an atmosphere will be possible.

Perhaps now you can better and more tangibly understand how strangely ruthless politics can be.

Even in these circumstances, I have not forgotten professional ethics or the trust of my dear companions and respected sources. I did not wish, for the time being, to delve into the behind-the-scenes or the "cause of causes" of this multi-faceted coalition consisting of dirty money, power, and the fear of truth and the exposure of dream-peddling.

The commonality between these two attacking groups, who have serious political differences and even enmity toward each other, is even more intriguing.

When silver rules and gold becomes god,
When lies become the judge of every tale.

When the air—the air for living—
Becomes a shroud of death over hundreds of voices.

Let, in the vastness of this cesspool of despair,
My world shrink to the smallness of isolation.

I have written many times with full politeness: please, if my writing and the content of this channel are not to your liking, leave this channel. I have not written, and do not write, to please anyone, nor am I looking for followers.

My covenant was, and is, to observe professional ethics, to avoid selling fantasies, and to publish accurate news. I have written repeatedly: anyone whose name is mentioned in Abdi Media has the right to explain, and I am duty-bound to publish their explanation.

That account was proudly sacrificed for Iran and the truth, but the truth will not be lost, just like our Iran. It is not in my nature to mourn or wail for what I have given in the way of my homeland; if it is meant to return, it will, and if not, it is "less than nothing" compared to the grandeur of the letters that spell Iran.

And you have always been my motivation for writing, as you are today. They closed the Abdi Media account, but not our voice. I will return to every platform with patience. Together, we are much bigger and stronger than the rooms of organized attacks. In this "shop of chivalry," I wrote of the crimes of Iran's bloody December, and I wrote of the war and its hardships, miseries, and calamities—and I warned of them beforehand. For a handful of "bravos" and likes, I will never bow my head to any dictator.

I am the voice of the color red, a writing on the wall,
The word of every burnt book; you, keep me alive!

Keep me alive on torn pieces of paper,
With broken pens, in the imprisonment of every star.

Keep me alive in the night of the dawn's anger,
With an epic song, atop the final poem.