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"Then a tall, broad shouldered man stepped out of the pickup truck. Tee tall man's sparkling white garment glimmered in the breeze, his arms spread like those of jesus on the cross." You can imagine the look of the garment with how well the author uses imagery to describe the clothing.

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¨TO MY SURPRISE, most of the houses in the Wazir Akbar Khan district still had
roofs and standing walls. In fact, they were in pretty good shape. Trees still
peeked over the walls, and the streets weren’t nearly as rubble-strewn as the
ones in Karteh-Seh. Faded streets signs, some twisted and bullet-pocked,
still pointed the way.¨247

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¨I laughed. Partly at the joke, partly at how Afghan humor never
changed. Wars were waged, the Internet was invented, and a robot had rolled on the surface of Mars, and in Afghanistan we were still telling Mullah Nasruddin jokes. “Did you hear about the time Mullah had placed a heavy bag on his shoulders and was riding his donkey?” I said.
“No.”
“Someone on the street said why don’t you put the bag on the donkey?
And he said, ‘That would be cruel, I’m heavy enough already for the poor thing.’”
We exchanged Mullah Nasruddin jokes until we ran out of them and we fell silent again.¨
The author creates this solemn and nostalgic mood where these two men are making jokes and laughing but there thinking about how it used to be. These jokes where a part of the past for them, A past they can´t get back and even though they are jokes there a part of the life the used to have.

-Faith

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"Everywhere I looked, a haze of dust covered the city and its
sun-dried brick buildings. A few blocks north of Pashtunistan Square, Farid
pointed to two men talking animatedly at a busy street corner. One of them
was hobbling on one leg, his other leg amputated below the knee. He
cradled an artificial leg in his arms."

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"I will never, as long as I draw breath, forget the sound of that scream.  It was the cry of a wild animal trying to pry its mangled leg from the bear trap."-pg 269

The author is showing us the terror and horror that this woman felt by using this metaphor. This women was trapped and there was no way out.

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¨GINGERLY, I WALKED up the driveway where tufts of weed now grew between
the sun-faded bricks. I stood outside the gates of my father’s house, feeling
like a stranger.¨

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"...The paint had begun to peel and sections of it had sloughed off altogether. The lawn had turned the same brown as the haze of dust hovering over the city, dotted by bald patches of dirt where nothing grew at all,” (pg 248). The author uses images of this dull sort of hue that's fallen over the place that’d once sheltered Amir, showing parts to the house missing, trees gone, no corn, paint peeling, and blank patches. It creates a feeling of desertion,  an impoverished feeling. This was the house of one of the most well respected, wealthy men of Kabul, Baba, and it sort of represents this respect and structure that is now also long gone from Afghanistan.

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¨We scampered about the hilltop chasing each other or sat on a
sloped ridge where there was a good view of the airport in the distance.
We’d watch airplanes take off and land.¨

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In those days, treetops poked behind the walls of every
house. The sky stretched wide and blue, and laundry drying on clotheslines
glimmered in the sun. If you listened hard, you might even have heard the
call of the fruit seller passing through Wazir Akbar Khan with his donkey:
Cherries! Apricots! Grapes! In the early evening, you would have heard
azan, the mueszzin’s call to prayer from the mosque in Shar-e-Nau.

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¨A jeep was parked in the driveway and that looked all wrong: Baba’s
black Mustang belonged there. For years, the Mustang’s eight cylinders
roared to life every morning, rousing me from sleep.¨ wants to feel like the taliban don't belong there as well as making us feel bad about the rest of the people and baba

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"The old metal gates hanging off the hinges were gone, and the headstones were barely visible through the thick tangles of weeds that had claimed the plot. A pair of crows sat on the low wall that enclosed the cemetery."

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246                                         “You know what they’re doing? Haggling over the leg.” “He’s selling his leg?” Farid nodded. “You can get good money for it on the black market. Feed your kids for a couple of weeks.”  the author is making the town sound raggedy and dangerous      

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246                                         “You know what they’re doing? Haggling over the leg.” “He’s selling his leg?” Farid nodded. “You can get good money for it on the black market. Feed your kids for a couple of weeks.”  the author is making the town sound raggedy and dangerous      

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"the sight of him drew cheers from a few spectators. This time, no one was struck with a whip for cheering too loudly. the tall man's sparkling white garment glimmered in the afternoon sun. the hem of his loose shirt fluttered in the breeze, his arms spread like those of jesus in the cross" Lively and dreamy mood.

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"We find the little turtle behind tangles of sweetbrier in the yard. We don’t know how it got there and we’re too excited to care. We paint its shell a bright red, Hassan’s idea, and a good one: This way, we’ll never lose it in the bushes. We pretend we’re a pair of daredevil explorers who’ve discovered a giant prehistoric monster in some distant jungle and we’ve brought it back for the world to see." The author is trying to get us to feel a sense of nostalgia, allowing Hassan to re-enter the story. The fact that this is the first thing Amir feels and sees when he sees his old house really shows the strength of the relationship he had with Hassan, and the best part of being in that house for Amir, now that he is understanding and grown, may have been Hassan.

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very sad and hopeful

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amir and farid travel north to his father house, he remembers he remembers playing with hassan in the yard.