My mother says when I was a baby it was not easy to wean me off her breast. Later on in order to make me give up the pacifier, my mom pinned it to the curtain of my room so I would suppose it wounded and that it cannot be used again. I have heard that day I stared at the pacifier and with weeping eyes I gazed into it all day. As I reached adolescence I felt I had the fetish for women’s breasts and it seemed I had carried this feeling inside me all my life. Now I’m twenty seven years old and it has been a few years I am looking for a psychoanalyst to talk to. I am not trying to say there is something wrong with me; I’d just like to know a psychoanalyst’s view about me. I thought even if I found a psychoanalyst in Tehran, I might not be able to recount properly the images that came into my mind or the ones I dreamt of. I suppose I should represent them, I should take their photos. Maybe if my psychoanalyst sees these images, we would have a better talk. Alireza Labeshka / July 2011