Milad Tower is the tallest tower in Iran.Built in 2007 in Tehran, it stands 435 meters high. The head consists of a large pod with 12 floors, the roof of which is at 315 meters.


Today, in northwestern Tehran, we see a large, gray, but majestic tower that points the tip of its telecommunication antenna to the sky, to the beyond smog, looking for some atoms oxygen whites. The milad tower has recently been operational. You can go there, walk around (the Milad Hospital and the Medical University of Iran), and the lucky ones who have taken care to join the long waiting list can even hope to visit the upper part of this monumental symbol of our metropolitan glory. The thing is (it's mean) huge. Massive and robust. This is the first of its kind in Iran, and perhaps the last. Some evenings, it radiates full color, full fire. The vision deserves a glance. From now on, those who will have seen or will see on its mound, our gigantic national tiara will be able to turn with pride towards their offspring by looking them straight in the eyes, and to say: "What is there? Have you ever seen a ride ?! " Because finally, it's true that a trick can be puzzling. Especially when it is expensive and it does not even reach the sky. In fact, we love it for the most part as an object. Is it not proportionate to the measure of our appetite for grandeur and height? Perhaps (surely) it will mark in one point the spirit of our children; will it become that famous original image whose memory never fails; neither the mother nor the father, but this place outside us that evokes the world, which promises the event, the fabulous thing, like going up to the sky with an elevator, to spring in the sky in a big corridor, circular, immensely glazed ... what a wonder. It is a bouquet of more on the tomb of Eiffel.

As far as I am concerned, it is daily that I "visit" the Milad tower. Daily, but at a distance. I "look" at it intensely when I pass by, every morning of my adult life, and the window of my office, still I "look". More than a vertical presence, it is an event that has recently dominated by its uncompromising rectitude, the polluted sky of my capital. I see it as a hope, a very high-level urban fix whose eyes pull me inexorably upwards. I can easily imagine a giant even more colossal than Rhodes, who would brandish my tower by clutching in his titanic fist. The image is worth what it is worth (enough to make pale the tiny Statue of Liberty) the tower, by what it promises: a vertical world to the measure of our time; a sovereign management of space, no longer turned towards the perpetual occupation of the soil, but occupied to climb the atmospheric scale, to structure the air above our heads. Times are hard on the planet, and the space will soon run out (it's short a few hundred years). And if some castigate shamelessly the confined atmosphere of our cities, our (almost) hand-to-hand that last the day (because of promiscuity), the shape of machines and the sound of machines and the smell of machines, and the walls that do not stop adding to the city walls ... they are right. It is therefore necessary to embellish the whole thing, and to go for the air from above. You have to climb as only the technique allows you to climb. It is no longer necessary to crawl or build on the ground. It is necessary to take Milad to witness, to hold the dragée high to the upper layers of the precious stratosphere, to redraw Babel on the scale of the man. We must reorganize our collective territory, ask a new diagnosis, redraw our double megapolis (soon 2 times 10 million inhabitants). We who spoil the space in what is green, cooler, and more natural ... give space to its original greenery and even its desert, and let us in the city to perceive the space and interpret it as a degenerate piece of nature. The city is something else. The Big City is today a world city. It continues to nibble its borders, to expand at the speed of clearings in the heart of the Amazon. She will never cease to overflowing her bed, to stretch out horizontally, to force to arbitrariness the interminable and irrational land divisions so little urbanistic, in favor of an anarchic deployment of the city to its periphery.

Looking at Milad and behind her the mountains, I can see two limits to the exuberant and inconsistent advance of our Great Tehran: the Alborz and its long mountain range to the north, and not far from it, the iron and concrete tower . Telluric, the first limit is indifferent to our fate. His intransigence is his strength. The other limit, the suspended city, does not exist. However, cubic kilometers of almost virgin space overhang us, huddle around Milad, and await the look of the architect, a proud Eupalinos who will climb like an ivy, the skyscraper, and many other skyscraper (the word is ugly). Elsewhere, they already tickle the belly of the clouds, these immense "did you see me"; the Burj Dubai, the Sears Tower in Chicago, the Taipei 101 in Taiwan, the Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur, etc. The list is long and constantly reminds us that if the earth is flat or nearly so, it will not remain so forever. The city of tomorrow is already upon us.

As for the "secret" ... I was joking