My Husband Travels
It was eight minutes before the taxi arrived to take my husband to the airport. We were in the bathroom, throwing toiletries into a tartan sponge bag.
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The View from the Sitting Room
One morning, the women in the Kabul house awoke with a particular sense of purpose. After the dawn prayer, when Nazo would usually…
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The Wind’s Keeper
We smelled the island before we could see it. The pungent acid scent hit us like a wave.
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Confessions of the Hamam Non-Sisterhood
She flung the plastic bucket in my supine direction. The warm water leapt out, arched through the steaming black room and landed with a slap across my face.
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