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Kids of Kabul

Kids of Kabul

Living Bravely through a Never-ending War
also available: eBook Hardcover
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I used to think, if only I could read, then I would be happy. But now I just want more! I want to read about poets and Afghan history and science and about places outside Afghanistan.
— Faranoz, 14

I try to remember that my house is not me. Where we live it is very, very bad. We have no clean sheets, no beds. We sleep on the floor. We try to keep it clean but there is mud when it rains and dust when there is no rain. We have no electricity, just a little oil lamp that we light to do our home-work, but we must work quickly and not waste the oil.
— Sharifa, 14

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Dodger Boy

At that moment Dawn came back. She was with a boy who was just about as opposite from the be-in as you could imagine, a kind of anti-matter of hippie. He had very short, tidy hair shaved up the sides of his head, and he was dressed in crisp jeans and a white T-shirt. He was so clean that he seemed to have a little halo around him. How was he staying so clean?

The second he arrived at the blanket, the sun peeped out.

“This is Tom Ed,” said Dawn. “He’s from Texas. He’s a draft dodger.”

Later, when Charlotte saw those T-shirts that declared, Today is the first day of the rest of your life, she thought of that moment.

The damp blanket, her muddy toes, the music in her pores, the hippie-sweet air, and the tall, bright-faced Texan.

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