The road back to Kabul is a dark, bumpy haze; you can feel the dust enter your lungs as you breathe in. We jostle along, the constant jolt of stopping and going when you’re driving in lanes that aren’t really lanes and the only real rule of traffic is the fend for yourself. In the dark of the early evening cyclists and pedestrians come out of almost nowhere, lurching into the street at a moment’s notice. Our driver maneuvers around them as if it were second nature.
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