Mereka berdua terperangkap di bawah tempat tidur dalam sebuah rumah sekitar 20 kilometer dari kota Jiegu.
Kedua korban bernama, Wujian Cuomao (68) dan Cairen Baji, mereka berdua mampu bertahan hidup karena para kerabat mengirimkan makanan dan air melalui celah diantara puing-puing dengan bantuan bambu.
Saat reruntuhan diangkat Cuomao masih bisa melambaikan tangan. CCTV memberitakan bahwa Cuomao dalam keadaan kritis sedangkan Baji mengalami masalah jantung akibat trauma.
Title : The Kite Runner
Languange : Indonesia
Writer : Khaled Hosseini
Ebook Format : exe
Synopsis
I have one last chance to take the decision to determine what will become of me. I can step into the alley, defend Hassan accept whatever might happen, or I could run away. Finally, I ran away.
Amir betrayed Hassan, the only friend. Brother. Guilt haunted him. Hassan rid of life is the only option available. But after Hassan left, there was nothing left of her childhood. Like a broken kite, part of him flying with the wind. However, the past that have been buried deep was always pushed back. Present with old wounds. And like a kite, unable to resist the storm, Amir must face the memories that come into being again.
The Kite Runner is a powerful story of brotherhood, love, betrayal, and pederitaan. Khaled Hosseini with the brilliant present other sides of Afghanistan, a beautiful country which until now still have grief. However, even the pain is always kept happy. In the midst of the jungle ruins in the city of Kabul, the amir would find it?
"Strong and touching". The New York Times Books Review
"Sweep" the San Francisco Chronicle
"Incredible" People
"Incredible" The New York Times
Writer :By Mark Twain, 1884
Languange : English
Ebook Format : PDF
‘Well, I’m puzzled. Is something the matter?’
‘Please take it,’ says I, ‘and don’t ask me noth-ing — then I won’t have to tell no lies.’
He studied a while, and then he says:
‘Oho-o! I think I see. You want to SELL all your property to me — not give it. That’s the correct idea.’
Then he wrote something on a paper and read it over, and says:
‘There; you see it says ‘for a consideration.’ That means I have bought it of you and paid you for it. Here’s a dollar for you. Now you sign it.’
So I signed it, and left.
Miss Watson’s nigger, Jim, had a hair-ball as big as your fist, which had been took out of the fourth stomach of an ox, and he used to do magic with it. He said there was a spirit inside of it, and it knowed everything. So I went to him that night and told him pap was here again, for I found his tracks in the snow. What I wanted to know was, what he was going to do, and was he going to stay? Jim got out his hair-ball and said something over it, and then he held it up and dropped it on the floor. It fell pretty solid, and only rolled about an inch. Jim tried it again, and then another time, and it acted just the same. Jim got down on his knees, and put his ear against it and listened. But it warn’t no use; he said it wouldn’t talk. He said sometimes it wouldn’t talk without money. I told him I had an old slick counterfeit quarter that warn’t no good because the brass showed through the silver a little, and it wouldn’t pass nohow, even if the brass didn’t show, because it was so slick it felt greasy, and so that would tell on it every time. (I reckoned I wouldn’t say nothing about the dollar I got from the judge.) I said it was pretty bad money, but maybe the hair-ball would take it, because maybe it wouldn’t know the difference. Jim smelt it and bit it and rubbed it, and said he would manage so the hair-ball would think it was good. He said he would split open a raw Irish potato and stick the quarter in between and keep it there all night, and next morning you couldn’t see no brass, and it wouldn’t feel greasy no more, and so anybody in town would take it in a minute, let alone a hair-ball. Well, I knowed a potato would do that before, but I had forgot it.
Jim put the quarter under the hair-ball, and got down and listened again. This time he said the hair- ball was all right. He said it would tell my whole fortune if I wanted it to. I says, go on. So the hair- ball talked to Jim, and Jim told it to me. He says:
‘Yo’ ole father doan’ know yit what he’s a-gwyne to do. Sometimes he spec he’ll go ‘way, en den agin he spec he’ll stay. De bes’ way is to res’ easy en let de ole man take his own way. Dey’s two angels hoverin’ roun’ ‘bout him. One uv ‘em is white en shiny, en t’other one is black. De white one gits him to go right a little while, den de black one sail in en bust it all up. A body can’t tell yit which one gwyne to fetch him at de las’. But you is all right. You gwyne to have considable trouble in yo’ life, en con- sidable joy. Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, en sometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you’s gwyne to git well agin. Dey’s two gals flyin’ ‘bout you in yo’ life. One uv ‘em’s light en t’other one is dark. One is rich en t’other is po’. You’s gwyne to marry de po’ one fust en de rich one by en by. You wants to keep ‘way fum de water as much as you kin, en don’t run no resk, ‘kase it’s down in de bills dat you’s gwyne to git hung.’
When I lit my candle and went up to my room that night there sat pap — his own self!
