第十五章 - 追风筝的人 - 蜗牛双语阅读

蜗牛双语阅读

登录

蜗牛双语阅读

登录

追风筝的人 | 第十五章

2/10

A little past the redbrick buildings of Peshawar University, we entered an area my garrulous driver referred to as "Afghan Town." I saw sweetshops and carpet vendors, kabob stalls, kids with dirtcaked hands selling cigarettes, tiny restaurants -- maps of Afghanistan painted on their windows -- all interlaced with backstreet aid agencies. "Many of your brothers in this area, yar. They are opening Businesses, but most of them are very poor." He tsk'ed his tongue and sighed. "Anyway, we're getting close now."

查看中文翻译

I thought about the last time I had seen Rahim Khan, in 1981. He had come to say good-bye the night Baba and I had fled Kabul. I remember Baba and him embracing in the foyer, crying softly. When Baba and I arrived in the U.S., he and Rahim Khan kept in touch. They would speak four or five times a year and, sometimes, Baba would pass me the receiver. The last time I had spoken to Rahim Khan had been shortly after Baba's death. The news had reached Kabul and he had called. We'd only spoken for a few minutes and lost the connection.

查看中文翻译

The driver pulled up to a narrow building at a busy corner where two winding streets intersected. I paid the driver, took my lone suitcase, and walked up to the intricately carved door. The building had wooden balconies with open shutters -- from many of them, laundry was hanging to dry in the sun. I walked up the creaky stairs to the second floor, down a dim hallway to the last door on the right. Checked the address on the piece of stationery paper in my palm. Knocked.

查看中文翻译

Then, a thing made of skin and bones pretending to be Rahim Khan opened the door.

查看中文翻译

保存书签

追风筝的人 | 第十五章

2/10

X