“While walking deep into the gardens, I came upon a large open square, where pale chequerboard tiles covered the ground like a giant game of chess. The whole "board" was bordered by a spring green mass of mature trees, giving the area a soft, dappled appearance. Along the edges were several concrete benches, almost all taken up by small groups of elderly people meeting, greeting and chatting. The peaceful, relaxed air made me want to stop and sit; to watch the Shirazy world meander slowly by. I wondered if I would ever rise again from this scene, a modern day Rip Van Winkle perhaps, who falls asleep for a hundred years and wakes to find the scene before him unchanged apart from the people having long been replaced by their grandchildren.”

Excerpt From: Jamie.B Ernstein. “The Last Jew of Kabul.”