by Gian Micalessin
(Damascus) Ahmad beats his fist on his chest, shows me the sweatshirt covered with dark spots. “You see it? You see it? This is the blood of my nephew. He was coming home from school, he stopped to buy a gift for Mother’s Day (in Syria is celebrated on March 21) and that missile cut him in two. I ran into the street, I took him in his arms, but he was already in heaven.”
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