In 2002 I shared a meal with a gentlemen who left me with a few short lines of story that would help me understand the frustration of life under the Taliban regime. I came across the words recently in my notebook. They are still very impactful.
You hear the tanks approaching your house but your own son is the driver; and you are not aware of that.
Later in the discussion he gave us this thought to consider.
You want to get back what they stole from your house but you can’t go to the police; because the thieve’s father is a judge and you are not aware of that.
The man was a poet that had been imprisoned many times for the content of his poems.