Gregory David Roberts

The voice, Afghan matchmakers say, is more than half of love.

The legends say that the loved one is instantly recognised because she’s loved in every gesture, every expression of thought, every movement, every sound, and every mood that prays in her eyes. The legends say that we know her by her wings—the wings that only we can see—and because wanting her kills every other desire of love.

The past reflects eternally between two mirrors—the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn’t do or say.

Being listened to—really listened to—is the second-best thing in the world.

‘Resentment is unmet need or desire,’ she said.

‘When I heard those words, resentment is unmet need or desire, I knew how to think about what I was feeling.

My heart was a question; my head was a command

Victims of war become masters of silence.

‘It’s a young war,’ he said softly, looking at the faces of the Tamils near us on the deck. ‘The Tamil homeland in Sri Lanka is an old idea, but the young are dying for it.

The red movie poster, Antonioni’s Blow Up, art and abandon becoming death and desire