It was a warm summer morning when Ali Amiri arrived at university to teach his classes with an elected president in charge of Afghanistan.
By sunset, the country was governed by the autocratic Taliban.
Mr Amiri knew he had to get out and leave his beloved library behind.
The 49-year old, who now lives in western Sydney, is one of Afghanistan's most prominent intellectuals, with expertise on its history, Islamic classic texts and philosophy.
He was among 120,000 Afghans evacuated in desperate scenes at Kabul airport in 2021.
He has chronicled the journey in The Book of Exodus, released this month by independent Sydney publisher Arta Books.
Mr Amiri describes an Afghan capital gripped by fear when the Taliban took control.
Kabul's usually bustling streets quickly hollowed out when the government fell and its president escaped to Dubai.
"Fear poured down like rain, everyone was scared," Mr Amiri told AAP.
"My family thought they wouldn’t see me again, they assumed I was dead.
"They were so scared, it took a few days to calm them down.
"I needed to look fine for them, but inside I was scared to the point of death."
Mr Amiri was previously detained by the Taliban for shaving his beard when the extremist militant group first ruled the country, from 1996 to 2001.
"They took me to the Ministry of Vice and Virtue, where I feared they would torture me," he said.
Taliban authorities were ruthless in their treatment of the Hazaras, the Shi'a minority to which he belongs.
During the chaotic Kabul airport evacuation, thousands of people clambered onto flights organised by the US and allies including Australia.
Planes took off with desperate people hanging from the wheels, while others were left camped out hoping for relief.
Mr Amiri stayed on the tarmac for days waiting for his name to be called by the Australian government.
The stench of sewage surrounded the airport and food and water were in short supply.
Eventually, his airlifting came at the behest of internationally renowned Afghan-Australian artist Kadhim Ali and human rights lawyer Atika Hussain, who ended up translating Mr Amiri's book.
They organised humanitarian visa applications for Mr Amiri and other artists with letters of support from the Art Gallery of NSW and Museum of Contemporary Art.
"When the visa came through, I was so thrilled, I am indebted to all the people who helped with it," Mr Ali said.
"I could hardly sleep when Amiri was at Kabul airport, I was dreading anything could happen to him."
Mr Ali said his friend's deep knowledge of ancient texts inspired his own artistic practices as a miniature painter, with his work exhibited at prestigious galleries such as the Guggenheim Museum in New York.
"An artist requires a philosophical and historical analysis informing their artistic methods," he said.
"Amiri has been that source of wisdom to me.
"Afghanistan has a rich history and iconography - its meanings and depths have not been fully deciphered, and Amiri is one of the few people who could decode and open this bud."
For Mr Amiri, his 190-page book translated into English from Farsi captures the voices of writers, visual artists and film-makers who resisted Taliban rule in the mid-1990s and are doing it again.
"It's not only my story, it's other people's stories too," he said.
"They stayed to enrich Afghanistan (culturally) and didn't leave the country for the past 20 years when they could have."
Julia Booth, a Sydney University lecturer, said she was proud to bring Mr Amiri's account to Australian readers.
"He brings a whole wealth of knowledge, history and information out to an English-speaking audience," she said.
Living in multicultural western Sydney, Mr Amiri has adapted to life in Australia amid a large Afghan community that makes him feel at home.
He described the book as a way of thanking Australia.
But the topic of books also reminds him of the country and library he left behind.
Carefully built over decades, he amassed an enviable collection of books he hopes to transport with him.
"Each of the books I left behind was like a friend that had a soul," he said.
Mr Amiri said life in Afghanistan taught him not to submit to hopelessness.
"I don't know where the future takes me," he said.
"This is also an adventure of how I could be able to rebuild a life in the second half of my life."
