He had fled the war, leaving his village
and his past behind, and had settled with his loved
ones not far from the border. He had waved the caravan
He had said he would not go any further,
that they would set camp, and that his decision was
final against any reason. Nobody dared contradict the
elder, the wise man, and life was organized accordingly.
He spent his days reading the Koran
My own exile was still recent. "Your
house, your country, your story are within you if you
let them enter. Wherever you are they follow you",
he told me.
Then with a sigh, his eyes gazing at
the Afghan mountain slope, he admitted that he would
not be able to survive without seeing his land, every
day that God made.