Roses…

Roses…

    Today, I fell in love with a Pashto song. I imagined the writer, a handsome man, his features Afghan like I see on TV; to me they all look like poets. Thinking up beautiful lines. in the mountains, in the pleasant bitter coldness, of Waziristan. Now terroristan if we’re to believe the Americans. […]

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The House That Wasn’t…

The House That Wasn’t…

One balmy afternoon, I built a house with cloth and bamboo shoots. walls splashed with yellow and brown roses. Egyptian cotton, I still remember! Soft and warm I curled in them. Empty utensils bubbling with joy, on a fire stoked by my dreams. A cabbage patch wrapped around me, My doors open for all to […]

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