Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years. p. 1
Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words. Mine was Baba. His was Amir. My name. Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the inter of 1975—and all ha followed— was already laid in those first words. p. 11
"Now, no matter what the mullah teaches, there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understands that?" p. 17
By the following winter, it was only a faint scar. Which was ironic. Because that was the winter that.....
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