
I’m twenty-six years old and I live under Taliban rule. That sentence still feels strange to write, because not that long ago, I thought my future might look very different. I’ve lived through the republic, watched it collapse, and then woke up one morning to the “Islamic Emirate” back in control. I’ve seen two versions of my country—one flawed and corrupt, but breathing a little easier—and the other suffocating, stripped of color, and ruled by fear.
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