In his soot-blackened hands, Nour El-Din stood stunned and speechless, holding and staring at what is left of a pink coat. A short time ago, this coat was on the body of a little girl, whose heart shivered of cold in a snow-buried tent….
Here, there is neither a board to write the Arabic alphabet on, nor walls, nor paintings of the sun whose rays fall on children’s swings. Until recently, there were no desks either. The classroom floor is covered with pebbles that hurt children’s feet….
The tents tell their stories …
October 20 would have been a normal day; Omar and Ali got dressed, carried on their school backpacks, and left their home in Ariha, a town in Idlib countryside, starting their journey to school.
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