“For a moment I’m feeling my head is above the clouds.”
Reading this sentence below the image of two five, six years old girls ,smiling, sitting on the back of a cream color Peykan, number 88715 D Tehran, on the cover of the Hamshahri Magazine, made me shape the story of “Common Hole” which this sentence came out of its heart.
The photograph and the story did not directly related. Like the other numbers of the magazine, it was just a photo of the whole story of that issue. I read the stories of that magazine and it was over.
And this was the beginning. In my mind, the idea of ​​the story grew and formed.
Intuitive laziness, escape from writing, and the usual “I do not know,It doesn’t work,” have failed to do anything.
I reached the final line of the script.
I found the phone number of the author of the story. It was weird for him to call him one morning and say, “I turned one of your stories into an script, can I make its film?”
“I must read it.”

He read.

I asked for his opinion.
“You have done all the job,” he said. “This screenplay is your paraphrase of the story. I smile and I wish you success until your movie become ready.” The film was made.
The first time that the full movie (and I’m referring to the full-length animation, sound, color, and special effects) was shown on the screen, I moved a little in my chair, with the cold sweat on the forehead, and, as always, remembering the proverbial with the image that the ground opens like a mouth and pull you inside, which I had been asked for a few times because of losing some of my things, and this time I asked for because of gaining something.
I believe that there is no substitute for some of the things in life. Time makes them look normal, moderate them, but they are never filled.
That’s why one day, by reading a sentence below a photo, you feel like your head is above the clouds.
In creating this film, I owe to dear friends who were much more than they were, and they supported me.
And a special thanks to Mohammad Reza Zamani for the story and smile of that day.