The Pomegranate Tree stories Friendship Amir Hassan “Sitting cross-legged, sunlight and shadows of pomegranate leaves dancing on his face, Hassan absently plucked blades of grass from the ground as I read him stories he couldn’t read for himself.” (Hosseini 30) “There was a pomegranate tree near the entrance to the cemetery. One summer day, I used one of Ali’s kitchen knives to carve our names on it: “Amir and Hassan, the sultans of Kabul.” Those words made it formal: the tree was ours. After school, Hassan and I climbed its branches and snatched its bloodred pomegranates. After we’d eaten the fruit and wiped our hands on the grass, I would read to Hassan.” (Hosseini 30) stories “The two of us often walk up to the cemetery on the hill. Do you remember how we used to sit under the pomegranate tree there and read from Shahnamah? The droughts have dried the hill and the tree hasn’t borne fruit in years, but Sohrab and I still sit under its shade and I read to him from the Shahnamah.” (Hosseini 229) “Amir agha?” “What?” “Do you want to go climb our tree?” (Hosseini 40) Amir Hassan EVEN NEWER COPY-GOOD COPY?? “Looking at the wilted, leafless tree, I doubted it would ever would again. I stood under it, remembered all the times we’d climbed, straddled its branches, our legs swinging, dappled sunlight flickering through the leaves and casting on our faces a mosaic of light and shadow. The tangy taste of pomegranate crept into my mouth.” (Hosseini 276-277) “We had picked a dozen pomegranates from the tree. I unfolded the story I’d brought along, turned to the first page, then put it down. I stood up and picked up an overripe pomegranate that had fallen to the ground.” (Hosseini 97) Friendship

The Pomegranate Tree Friendship Amir Hassan “Sitting cross-legged, sunlight and shadows of pomegranate leaves dancing on his face, Hassan absently plucked blades of grass from the ground as I read him stories he couldn’t read for himself.” (Hosseini 30) “Looking at the wilted, leafless tree, I doubted it would ever would again. I stood under it, remembered all the times we’d climbed, straddled its branches, our legs swinging, dappled sunlight flickering through the leaves and casting on our faces a mosaic of light and shadow. The tangy taste of pomegranate crept into my mouth.” (Hosseini 276-277) “The two of us often walk up to the cemetery on the hill. Do you remember how we used to sit under the pomegranate tree there and read from Shahnamah? The droughts have dried the hill and the tree hasn’t borne fruit in years, but Sohrab and I still sit under its shade and I read to him from the Shahnamah.” (Hosseini 229) Amir Hassan “Amir agha?” “What?” “Do you want to go climb our tree?” (Hosseini 40) EVEN NEWER COPY-GOOD COPY!!!! “There was a pomegranate tree near the entrance to the cemetery. One summer day, I used one of Ali’s kitchen knives to carve our names on it: “Amir and Hassan, the sultans of Kabul.” Those words made it formal: the tree was ours. After school, Hassan and I climbed its branches and snatched its bloodred pomegranates. After we’d eaten the fruit and wiped our hands on the grass, I would read to Hassan.” (Hosseini 30) “We had picked a dozen pomegranates from the tree. I unfolded the story I’d brought along, turned to the first page, then put it down. I stood up and picked up an overripe pomegranate that had fallen to the ground.” (Hosseini 97) Friendship