China is Testing Biden – How Will He Respond? 🌎🚀

"𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵." -- 𝘊𝘕𝘉𝘊 [Main Logotype (Dark Green) | EMA]( [China recently launched a hypersonic nuclear missile around the world…]( [𝗇𝗎𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾 / 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗇]( This is beyond crazy. And a big threat to America. [How did Biden respond to it?]( 🤔 That same night, I wrote my first short story. It took me thirty minutes. It was a dark little tale about a man who found a magic cup and learned that if he wept into the cup, his tears turned into pearls. But even though he had always been poor, he was a happy man and rarely shed a tear. So he found ways to make himself sad so that his tears could make him rich. As the pearls piled up, so did his greed grow. The story ended with the man sitting on a mountain of pearls, knife in hand, weeping helplessly into the cup with his beloved ’s slain body in his arms. That evening, I climbed the stairs and walked into Baba’s smoking room, in my hands the two sheets of paper on which I had scribbled the story. Baba and Rahim Khan were smoking pipes and sipping brandy when I came in. What is it, Amir? Baba said, reclining on the sofa and lacing his hands behind his head. Blue smoke swirled around his face. His glare made my throat feel dry. I cleared it and told him I’d written a story. Baba nodded and gave a thin smile that conveyed little more than feigned interest. Well, that’s very good, isn’t it? he said. Then nothing more. He just looked at me through the cloud of smoke. I probably stood t for under a minute, but, to this day, it was one of the longest minutes of my . Seconds plodded by, each separated from the next by an eternity. Air grew heavy damp, almost solid. I was breathing bricks. Baba went on staring me down, and didn’t er to read. As always, it was Rahim Khan who rescued me. He held out his hand and favored me with a smile that had nothing feigned about it. May I have it, Amir jan? I would very much like to read it. Baba hardly ever used the term of endearment _jan_ when he addressed me. Baba shrugged and stood up. He looked relieved, as if he too had been rescued by Rahim Khan. Yes, give it to Kaka Rahim. I’m going upstairs to ready. And with that, he left the room. Most days I worshiped Baba with an intensity approaching the religious. But right then, I wished I could my veins and drain his cursed blood from my body. An hour later, as the evening sky dimmed, the two of them drove in my father’s car to attend a party. On his way out, Rahim Khan hunkered before me and handed me my story and another folded piece of paper. He flashed a smile and winked. . Read it later. Then he paused and added a single word that did more to encourage me to pursue writing than any compliment any editor has ever paid me. That word was _Bravo_. When they left, I sat on my bed and wished Rahim Khan had been my father. Then I thought of Baba and his big chest and how good it felt when he held me against it, how he smelled of Brut in the morning, and how his beard tickled my face. I was overcome with such sudden guilt that I bolted to the bathroom and vomited in the sink. Later that night, curled up in bed, I read Rahim Khan’s note over and over. It read like this: Amir jan, I enjoyed your story very much. _Mashah_, God has granted you a special talent. It is your duty to hone that talent, because a person who wastes his God-given talents is a donkey. You have written your story with sound grammar and interesting style. But the most impressive thing about your story is that it has irony. You may not even k what that word means. But you will someday. It is something that some writers reach for their entire careers and attain. You have achieved it with your first story. My door is and always will be to you, Amir jan. I sh hear any story you have to tell. Bravo. Your , Rahim Buoyed by Rahim Khan’s note, I grabbed the story and hurried downstairs to the foyer w Ali and Hassan were sleeping on a mattress. That was the time they slept in the house, when Baba was away and Ali had to watch over me. I shook Hassan awake and asked him if he wanted to hear a story. He rubbed his sleep-clogged eyes and stretched. ? What time is it? mind the time. This story’s special. I wrote it myself, I whispered, hoping not to wake Ali. Hassan’s face brightened. Then I _have_ to hear it, he said, already pulling the blanket him. I read it to him in the living room by the marble fireplace. No playful straying from the words this time; this was about me! Hassan was the audience in many ways, toty immersed in the tale, his face shifting with the changing tones in the story. When I read the last sentence, he made a muted clapping sound with his hands. _Mashah_, Amir agha. Bravo! He was beaming. You liked it? I said, ting my second taste--and how sweet it was--of a positive review. Some day, _Inshah_, you will be a writer, Hassan said. And people over the world will read your stories. You exaggerate, Hassan, I said, loving him for it. No. You will be and famous, he insisted. Then he paused, as if on the verge of adding something. He weighed his words and cleared his throat. But will you permit me to ask a question about the story? he said shyly. Of course. Well... he started, broke . Tell me, Hassan, I said. I smiled, though suddenly the insecure writer in me wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear it. Well, he said, if I may ask, why did the man kill his ? In f, why did he ever have to feel sad to shed tears? Couldn’t he have just smelled an onion? I was stunned. That particular point, so obvious it was utterly stupid, hadn’t even occurred to me. I moved my lips soundlessly. It appeared that on the same night I had learned about one of writing’s objectives, irony, I would also be introduced to one of its pitfs: the Plot Hole. Taught by Hassan, of people. Hassan who couldn’t read and had written a single word in his entire . A voice, cold and dark, suddenly whispered in my ear, _What does he k, that illiterate Hazara? He’ll be anything but a cook. How dare he criticize you?_ Well, I began. But I got to finish that sentence. Because suddenly Afghanistan changed forever. [Small logotype (EMA)]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. Inception Media, LLC appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media, LLC are not permitted to provide іndivіdualіzed financial advіse. This email is not fіnаncіаl аdvіcе and any іnvеstmеnt decision you make is solely your responsibility. 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