"a feeling…that there was in her life the absence of something, or someone fundamental to her existence. sometimes it was vague, like a message sent across shadowy byways and vast distances, a weak signal on a radio dial, remote, warbled. other times it felt so clear, this absence, so intimately close it made her heart lurch"
-khalid hosseini (and the mountains echoed)
what a beautiful narrative chemistry the man weaves, a bloody good storyteller, a story about existences which are both compromised and wasted, and yet lived!
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