The custom is to not let the sheep see the knife. Ali feeds the animal a cube of sugar - another custom, to make death sweeter. The sheep kicks, but not much. The mullah grabs it under its jaw and places the blade on its neck. Just a second before he slices the throat in one expert motion, I see the sheep's eyes. It is a look that will haunt my dreams for week.s I don't know why I watch this yearly ritual in our backyard; my nightmares persist long after the bloodstains on the grass have faded. But I always watch. I watch because of that look of acceptance in the animal's eyes. Absurdly, I imagine the animal understands. I imagine the animal sees that its imminent demise is for a higher purpose. This is the look...
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I ran because I was a coward. I was afraid of Assef and what he would do to me. I was afraid of getting hurt. THat's what I told myself as I turned my back to the alley, to Assan. That's what I made myself believe. I actually aspired to cowardise, because the alternative, the real reason I was running, was that Assef was right: Nothing is free in this world.

     ~ The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini

The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini



"I reached across the table and put my hand on his. My student hand, clean and soft, his laborer's hand, grubby and calloused. It thought of all the trucks, train sets, and bikes he'd bought me in Kabul. Now America. One last gift for Amir."