distant jungle

jdnjshwueUID：3839305

"Who else??
He drove us into a wide street with fairly clean sidewalks and walled Homes on either side. "The people behind the Taliban. The real brains of this government, if you can call it that: Arabs, Chechens, Pakistanis,?Farid said. He pointed northwest. "Street 15, that way, is called Sarak-e-Mehmana.?Street of the Guests. "That's what they call them here, guests. I think someday these guests are going to pee all over the carpet.?
"I think that's it!?I said. "Over there!?I pointed to the landmark that used to serve as a guide for me when I was a kid. If you ever get lost, Baba used to say, remember that our street is the one with the pink house at the end of it. The pink house with the steeply pitched roof had been the neighborhood's only house of that color in the old days. It still was.
Farid turned onto the street. I saw Baba's house right away.
WE FIND THE LITTLE TURTLE behind tangles of sweetbrier in the yard. We don't know how it got there and we're too excited to care  with her, he would sanction
everything at oncehe answered.. We paint its shell a bright red, Hassan's idea, and a good one:
This way, we'll never lose it in the bushes. We pretend we're a pair of daredevil explorers who've discovered a giant prehistoric monster in some distant jungle and we've brought it back for the world to see. We set it down in the wooden wagon Ali built Hassan last winter for his birthday, pretend it's a giant steel cage. Behold the firebreathing monstrosity! We march on the grass and pull the wagon behind us, around apple and cherry trees, which become skyscrap ers soaring into clouds, heads poking out of thousands of windows to watch the spectacle passing below.