The Tapestry of Time

In a worn down street behind the Babur gardens of Kabul, Abdul's residence stood as a living testament to time's intricate dance. The room witnessed the reunion of two aging companions—Abdul and Rahim.

As the afternoon sun painted its golden light on the patterned curtains, Abdul handed Rahim a cup of fragrant chai sabz. Their hands met, a silent reunion of the years etched into the lines on their palms.

"Abdul, my friend, do you recall the days of our mischievous youth where we spent hours causing trouble in these streets?" Rahim asked, a spark of curiosity and mischief in his aged eyes.

Abdul leaned back, his gaze lost in the intricate designs. "The threads of my memory are as complex as these patterns. We are old men now and it is hard to untangle the threads that have stitched our lives to this point. The tapestry is still incomplete, as long as we breathe."

Rahim chuckled merrily and took a sip from his cup. "Ahhh my friend, I see you haven't lost your philosophical and poetic tongue in the journeys life has taken you." Abdul nodded solemnly, looking out into the city they had both called home for so long. 

"The world has changed, brother. But it seems we remain in our past. Look what our Kabul has become.  So many traditions changed, so many people gone. It seems we are the only ones living in the past. The world has gone forward without us." 

Rahim smiled in understanding. "Aahhh but look at the spirit of our people Abdul Jan. They may be here or may be gone but do you feel that spirit? It exists in all our hearts. That is not something that can be tangled in the threads of your complicated tapestry. That is the very essence of what is being created." 

Abdul tore his eyes away from the landscapes of Kabul beyond the window and looked at his friend, grinning for the first time in a long time. "It seems that my philosopical and poetic tongue has affected you as well brother!" 


Story and illustration by @rasmorawaj ©

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