Damascus — They were in a cardboard box in my mothers basement, thrown together with a rubble of things that once had held meaning to me but now seemed irrelevant: various books and articles I’d saved from my da...
Here you can hear the shouts of dead peopleyou can hear the screaming of moms injured children, Everything is crying.
Here you can hear the shouts of dead peopleyou can hear the screaming of moms injured children, Everything crys.
I remember
Palmyra