 But when they reach the final pages, blood is everywhere!They will be touched by an apt comparison and contrast with Sadegh Hedayat, whose gentle countenance lies silently next to the cold, pale, sleeping figures of all those murdered writers in morgue; all the victims who saw through the Oriental spirituality and anti-modern postures.Reminiscent of the work of Aramesh Dustdar thirty years ago, here Mr. Ashouri points his finger at, and then stirs some, the swamp.