Can anyone see me?

2019

It is a building like any other in the neighborhood, featuring tile work inscribed with Zoorkhaneh’s name on it. When you enter, there are lockers for you to take off your shoes and there is a door, noticeably low, that makes you bow in order to enter. 

I am a small person, but imagine being a tall, muscular athlete trying to get through that door. That is this place’s concept. Athletes might become stronger for a reason but here, their body is only a shell. There is ego inside but here they need to tame it. They come through the door humbly and put their arrogance aside, and then they hear the bell.
That is the musician Morshed announcing their presence, sitting in his own station above everyone else. He plays the drum as the athletes spin and move in harmony. He sings tales of bravery and selflessness and stories of people who grew strong to defend the weak. It is a big room with very high ceilings, with different designs depending on the geographical position of the gym. 

The walls are filled with inspirational quotes, photographs of previous and current athletes or mythical heroes to let you know this is not just a gym. It is a lifestyle, and there is a reputation that needs to be upheld. Next to the walls there is an audience, including young people ready to learn, and older people ready to teach and inspire. And then there is the “Goad”, a hollowed out space normally in the shape of a polygon where athletes can work out. It’s lower than everyone else because there is no need for it to be glorified.