by SR Editor January 17, 2009
I am seated on rubble and ashes I don’t know if Aya my doll is still in my arms I still can hear the talks, the whispers and the crying of latest days And the laughs of other times I still hear the familiar call for praying, the sounds of the house … I hope [...]
by Haitham Sabbah August 14, 2008
We know, all you could keep, is an old key, an old rusty key and no door to open with, because the door was left behind. Behind the hills, behind the walls, there was your house, once, now owned by foreigner dwelling in your land, now made a foreign country where foreigners feel at home, [...]
