by Randa Jarrar
Because today there is still a war and maybe after the war there will be a day, if after the war I have a drum or even a mouth to fix to say that we will dance and laugh so hard a day after the day after the war
Read MoreIt looks me in the eye and recounts to me the many times it let me live.
Read MoreThe building next door was stripped naked, its shattered windows gaping onto disarranged kitchens and bedrooms. My aunt’s building was leveled entirely. “Pow,” she said, flattening the air between her hands.
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