When I was in Afghanistan in 2007, I went from village to village where refugees had returned, and they were living out in the open under tents, sometimes completely exposed to the environment. And they were homeless, which meant they would lose children in the winter to the cold and in the summers in the extreme heat. It's extremely humiliating for them to be homeless, culturally it's very shameful.

Gone. Vanished. Nothing left. Nothing said.

One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.

For many people in the west, Afghanistan is synonymous with the Soviet war and the Taliban. I wanted to remind people that Afghans had managed to live in peaceful anonymity for decades, that the history of the Afghans in the twentieth century has been largely pacific and harmonious.

Of all the hardships a person had to face, none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.

Though there were moments of beauty, Mariam knew for the most part that life had been unkind to her.

In the end, the world always wins. That's just the way of things.