on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it's wrong what they say about the past, I've learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty -six years."
So begins Khaled Hosseini's first novel, "The Kite Runner".
So am I ensnared and transported to Afghanistan; to a time both past and present.
With the first paragraph I was drawn in, and now am held captive until the story is all told.