My head constantly ached from straining to make myself understood. Even with the help of Google Translate, there were so many things I couldn’t communicate.
Life must always go on, Bakr. Death doesn’t matter. Money doesn’t matter. Even life itself doesn’t matter, son. What matters is living your life with your family, with the people you love. We love each other, hard, and hold on tight. What we face, we face together. Together, we move forward and every little happiness we can have, we enjoy. We cannot let hatred and fear stop us from living.
There is nothing we can do about others’ hatred. We can only keep our own hearts clean.
We cannot let hatred and fear stop us from living.
When people in the West hear Iraq, they instantly think of Saddam Hussein and the Gulf War. But when I think about my home country, I remember the honey-drenched baklava my aunts gave me, the pinches on my cheeks, affectionate tickles under my chin, and coos of laughter.
Where do you go when you don’t even know where the danger is coming from?
Maybe if you didn’t care, you couldn’t be hurt.
Never forget Syria. Or Iraq, for that matter.