Thousand splendid suns (page 18)

As Nana recounted the story, Mariam sat on her lap and imagined her mom being fitted for a wedding dress. She envisioned her on horseback, grinning modestly behind a hidden green outfit, her palms painted red with henna, her hair separated with silver tidy, the plaits held together by tree sap. She saw artists blowing theshahnai woodwind and slamming ondohol drums, road youngsters hooting and giving pursue.