A Message from the Mountains
Greetings from the edge of the civilized world,
It’s been one week since I’ve last seen a computer, or even a shower for that matter. I’m currently in a sooty, log cabin in a small village in the Hindu Kush mountains of northern Pakistan, near the volatile border of Afghanistan. I am disguised as a Pashtun, and am rocking a ferocious neck beard.
While I haven’t been able to post this week (for which I apologize) (I know you need to procrastinate at the office), I have still been writing new things, or at least scrawling illegibly in a notebook on bumpy jeep rides over mountain passes. Thus, I have a slue of ridiculous stories to bestow upon you over the upcoming weeks.
In the meantime, here are two invaluable lessons I’ve learned here:
1) The sound of a bullet can travel 20km and still be heard over the inebriated screams of Pashtuns clamoring for fried chicken.
2) Always follow your dream, even when that dream involves a headless goat being dragged across a field by a dozen haggard Afghans on horses.
I’ll see you Monday.