Details about The Kite Runner
The Kite Runner – At the point when we were kids, Hassan and I used to climb the poplar trees in the carport of my dad’s home and bother our neighbors by reflecting daylight into their homes with a shard of mirror. We would sit opposite one another on a couple of high branches, our exposed feet hanging, our pant pockets loaded up with dried mulberries and pecans. We alternated with the mirror as we ate mulberries, pelted each other with them, chuckling, giggling; I can in any case see Hassan up on that tree, daylight glinting through the leaves on his completely round face, a face like a Chinese doll etched from hardwood: his level, expansive nose and inclining, thin eyes like bamboo leaves, eyes that looked, contingent upon the light, gold, green, even sapphire I can in any case see his little low-set ears and that sharp stub of a jawline, a substantial extremity that appeared as though it was added as a simple reconsideration. Also, the congenital fissure, just left of midline, where the Chinese doll creator’s instrument may have slipped; or maybe he had essentially become drained and imprudent.