One evening, not too long ago, I was walking home with my headphones in my ears down a quiet residential street carpeted in burgundy leaves. Suddenly fear overtook my body, and I shrieked uncontrollably, every muscle activated in defense. A man in an electric scooter was slowly passing me by, yet my brain had conjured an image of riot police in Tehran charging toward me. I scared us both and excused myself apologetically, as the confused man carried on. An armed riot guard would be quite an anomaly on these streets, as I reminded myself that I am not in Iran anymore.