Imagine spending hours in an overcrowded unventilated room. No matter where you turn, your nose itches with confusion after involuntarily inhaling a mix of perfumed sweat, cigarettes, and incense. Doesn't sound appealing, right? Well, that's how I felt at times when I was living in Yemen. Yet now, I am saddened by the fact that I… Continue reading It’s always time for the Tufruta
I shut my eyes so I don't see living skeletons, of momentarily dead bodies. I convince myself that it’s not cowardice, but responsibility; my toddler deserves a mentally healthy mom. I allow myself to hide, and I persuade myself to live, even as infants inhale their last breath of oxygen and rubble.