DR OCT.-3

 The temporal ambiguity of trauma's passage is immediately evinced in a quotidian dialogue concerning the duration elapsed since the Taliban's recent ascendancy; my sister posits four years hic aestas (this summer), a contention I counter with the insistence upon five. Her riposte, proffered with a jocularity dissonant with the gravity of the subject, is a challenge to meticulously enumerate the intervening lunations. My gaze, meanwhile, is drawn inexorably toward the political map of Afghanistan that has become an integral part of the wall, an overlooked fixture in my environment. Towering mountains, azure (sky blue) expanses bathed in solar effulgence, and an infinite dolor (grief or suffering): this triad encapsulates my native land. The fervent aspiration arises within me to possess an amplitude (greatness of extent; largeness) of reach commensurate with the heavens, enabling an encompassing embrace of my country and its manifold tribulations. Outside, the columbidae (doves) commence their vespertine (related to the evening) volitation (flight). As I proceed to the patio to observe their trajectory, I engage in introspection (the examination of one's own conscious thoughts and feelings), pondering why the interval since Kabul's demise (fall; end) to the Taliban seems subjectively elongated. Could this disparity (a great difference) be attributed to the notion that each diem (day) since August 2021 has borne the gravitas (seriousness; importance) of a year, or appeared to stretch into an interminable (endless) future? Yet, even prior to that threshold, the incumbent regime was engaged in a protracted belligerency (aggressive or warlike behavior) against the Taliban, a conflict that daily exacted a deadly toll. The ulcers (deep, open sores) of my homeland are too numerous for enumeration (the action of mentioning a number of things one by one) or specific identification concerning their personal impact; they resemble charged conductors. Any contact with one induces a violent paroxysm (a sudden, violent outburst; a fit or attack). I am now twenty-nine years of age, a point at which the attainment (the action or fact of achieving a goal) of a master's degree should have materialized, yet it remains a remote chimera (a thing that is hoped or wished for but in fact is illusory or impossible to achieve). I follow the news reports, and when the nausea (a feeling of sickness with an inclination to vomit) induced by political machinations becomes overwhelming, I seek refuge (shelter) within my novels, finding sanctuary (a place of refuge or safety) from life's inherent acerbity (bitterness). In an effort to maintain a minor illumination against the engulfing (swallowing up; surrounding and covering completely) tenebrosity (darkness), I also engage in composition (the action of writing), sometimes under a pseudonym, at others using my cognomen (surname; family name). The scrutiny (critical observation or examination) of the inner writer is held with tenacity (the quality or fact of being able to grip something firmly; determination), as I believe this persona will prove more utilitarian (practical and useful) to my homeland than any political figure.

Thus unfolds my narrative, my recollection (the action or faculty of remembering something) of the Afghan collapse.

It was the 14th of August 2021. My attire comprised black pantaloons (trousers), a maroon (a dark reddish-purple color) blouse with black striae (streaks or ridges), and a slender crimson (a rich deep red color) headscarf from which strands of my hair protruded (extended beyond or above a surface). I awaited the lift in my perambulatorium (wheelchair), a faint smile reflected in the burnished door casement (frame). A multitude of individuals, both masculine and feminine, navigated the space with great celerity (speed). I cannot recall a time during my four-year tenure (a period during which one holds a position or office) at this alma mater (university) when the campus exhibited such frenetic (fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way) activity. The previous vesper (evening), one participant in my WhatsApp conclave (a private meeting) of female activists had disseminated a message: 'I have received intelligence that the president has demitted (resigned) his office.' Upon being questioned, she remained reticent (not revealing one's thoughts or feelings readily). Nevertheless, social media platforms were saturated with enumerations detailing the sequence of provincial cession (the formal giving up of rights, property, or territory), alongside reports on the process's execution (the carrying out or putting into effect of a plan). A seeming accord (agreement) existed to equitably (fairly and justly) partition the provinces between the government and the Taliban. That morning, en route (on the way) to the university, I conveyed to my elder brother, Ali, who serves as my constant attendant, my belief that an interim (temporary) or transitional government, analogous to the six-month administration of 2001 that preceded (came before) the US-backed electoral victory of Hamid Karzai, would be established. Like many in the current climate, I maintained a vigilant surveillance (close observation) of such developments.

Word Count: 579 Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 14.5 (High)

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