A wasteland wrought by human hands, houses blasted and crumbling, and homes broken beyond repair. A dead city.
But flying free over the empty quarter, unseen by the eyeless windows, a flock of colored birds.
All over Kabul, even over West Kabul, kites dart and weave and hover. Children toss their dreams up into the sky no matter what cruelties or foolishness on the ground try to drag them back.
People live despite disaster, dream despite despair, and, in the face of everything, fly.
The Taliban banned kites. That, perhaps, tells you everything you need to know about them.
Posted by Martial