Character: Amir
Ever since you switched from camels to cars, you yourself have become soulless machines. You just don't have a conscience. After all, a person exists in this world in order to do good and sympathize with his neighbor. Whoever breaks this unwritten law will be punished, and whoever does a good deed will be rewarded a hundredfold.
The same evening I wrote my first short story. Thirty minutes. Turned a bleak tale about a poor man who found a magic Cup. If you cry, each tear turned into a pearl. But despite their poverty, my hero was a gay man and cried very rarely. To get rich, he had to find reasons to be sad. The higher grew the pile of gems, the more greed covered lucky. The story ended like this: the hero is sitting on a mountain of pearls, and wept in despair, tears dripping into the Cup. In his hand a kitchen knife, and at his feet is the corpse of a slaughtered wife.
Baba was wrong, there is a God. And always has been. I see it in the eyes of the people in this corridor of grief and despair. Here it is, the house of the Lord; here, and not between ascending to the sky of minarets in white Majeed finding of God, those who have lost it.
The coward's easy to justify yourself.
Merely smile. It solves nothing, fixes nothing. Such a small thing. Trembling leaf on a branch, from which fluttered the frightened bird. But for me it's a sign. This is my first one melted snowflake - a harbinger of spring.
