He tipped his drink to me and took a sip. He lit a cigarette, one of the unfiltered Pakistani cigarettes he and Baba were always smoking. “Did I ever tell you I was almost married once?”
“Really?”I said, smiling a little at the notion of Rahim Khan getting married. I’d always thought of him as Baba’s quiet alter ego, my writing mentor, my pal, the one who never forgot to bring me a souvenir, a saughat, when he returned from a trip abroad. But a husband? A father?
He nodded. “It’s true. I was eighteen. Her name was Homaira. She was a Hazara, the daughter of our neighbor’s servants. She was as beautiful as a pari, light brown hair, big hazel eyes... she had this laugh... I can stil
無論是哈桑還是拉辛，各自都揹負了太多，真相的沉重，讓幾代人都為之彌補為之傾倒一生。還記得小時候的追風箏比賽，哈桑的身影，已然變為現世的阿米爾。沒有人能過為自己所做的錯事逃過一劫，也沒有人能夠活得心安理得。他父親如此，他如此。
但夜幕降臨之後某個夜晚，那促膝而談的問候變得珍貴而讓人難以忘懷。在這個世界上，每個人都按著自己的意識生活、作業，偶然的交集便是舉國同慶的喜事或舉國哀嚎的災難。在過去的阿富汗能夠憑藉信任獲取的一切福利變得像我們心中的烏托邦，被戰爭的戕害後一點屍體都不會剩下。大漠荒草生息不絕，反教春花盛放凋零。思其一生，念其一世，在黑暗中培養了堅韌性格的人，在黑暗中能重新站起來的人，才是神話本該有的結局。
He tipped his drink to me and took a sip. He lit a cigarette, one of the unfiltered Pakistani cigarettes he and Baba were always smoking. “Did I ever tell you I was almost married once?”
“Really?”I said, smiling a little at the notion of Rahim Khan getting married. I’d always thought of him as Baba’s quiet alter ego, my writing mentor, my pal, the one who never forgot to bring me a souvenir, a saughat, when he returned from a trip abroad. But a husband? A father?
He nodded. “It’s true. I was eighteen. Her name was Homaira. She was a Hazara, the daughter of our neighbor’s servants. She was as beautiful as a pari, light brown hair, big hazel eyes... she had this laugh... I can stil