A country is a toddler's hand
that holds you as long as it can before it falls asleep.
A city is a clipboard with lists built and crossed out,
clutched like a punctuated flotation device.
A...
A virtual route of creative and cultural exchange
Places
Kabul, Afghanistan
« I have come again and am shining like gold on the dusty road after years it is not the smell of soil it is the smell of my birthplace. » —Mujib Mehrdad, The specks of birthplace
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ای آشنای دیروز media_text
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میروم با اشک و آه و ناله ها media_text
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I came out with Gulab’s son. We waited near the Bibi Mahood Mausoleum. Cars were all around us. The police and army personnel were standing on both sides of the road too. Opposite the mausoleum, an American... media_text
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Can literature accept social responsibility? Some say that the arts should be purely arts--nothing else, that writers should only serve the gods of beauty and joy. In some cases, this makes sense, particularly... media_text
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You are my heart, you are my soul; media_text
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Afghanistan is a place on mars To Malala media_text
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She always wished media_text
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Your old life ~Jelaluddin Rumi You remember the tale, media_text
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The weather was extremely cold and snowy. The street was covered by ice and snow. Everyone was in a hurry to gohome as soon as possible. "Buy a handkerchief for yourself please," said a small boy, his hands... media_text
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