From inside a cloth tent, erected on muddy ground, rise sounds full of life despite a surrounding that calls for nothing but despair. Here, alphabetic letters are written and erased; numbers are added and subtracted; songs resound, and dreams are drawn on notebooks’ pages….
The day my feet were amputated: when rockets deprived Syrian children of their most precious things: their limbs. …
Shedding tears for her poor child, who passed away immediately after delivering her baby, Raghad’s mother never expected that her little girl’s marriage would end like this. “I wish she had realized my anger and quarrels with her father before that marriage,” said the grieving mother.
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