مرد اگه هرکسو که میارن تو یه دور سکته بزنی که نکنه دن باشه چهل سالگی رو نمیبینی
"Vadim asked the chaikhana owner whether he’d heard anything from the other foreigner, but there was nothing but a headshake, and something like “Allah be willing.”
Allah had nothing to do with it. From what Vadim knew, the radical Muslims stoned homosexuals."
Allah had nothing to do with it. From what Vadim knew, the radical Muslims stoned homosexuals."
“And by the way...it’s ‘homosexual’, not ‘homosexualist’, but I prefer ‘gay’.”
“Gay means joyful.” Vadim looked up. “Neither of us is that. Joyful."
“Gay means joyful.” Vadim looked up. “Neither of us is that. Joyful."
Dan stilled, looked into those pale eyes, the colour still amazed him. “But I am. Joyful. Sometimes.”
“Not enough. Precious little joy in war.”
“Not enough. Precious little joy in war.”
Stay alive, he thought. Stay alive like you are now. I don’t want to carry your rotting body to Kabul and hand myself in to whatever bastard is your superior or handler there, but it must be Kabul. I can’t hand myself over. But I will.
نمیدونم از شدت این عشق ناسالمی که بهش داره گریه کنم، بخندم، سرمو بکوبم تو دیوار یا خودمو از ماشین پرت کنم پایین.
The goat-herders had Allah, but there was no God, not for him. Marx or Lenin had not taught him how to see people die, people like Dan. Or to not see him die, and that was worse. That was the whole fucking Hindu Kush coming at him.
ساعت نه صبح نشستم به خواهرم توضیح میدم چرا بوئینگ هواپیماهای خوبی نداره و انتظار دارم به حرفم گوش بده و سوال هم بپرسه.