We are in the heartland, bleeding out. We are seeds sprouted in torn lands. How did we come so far, cover so much distance? Habibti, we call out to each other, azizam. We say to one another, you are the source of my light. The goats were still baaing when we left, kicking against the rocks on the crest of the mountains, their beards wispy in the wind. There was the salt of the sea, the trembling line of heat. There was the hollow shaft of the gun barrel and the wayward man holding it. There were downcast mothers. There was the shell-shocked child with his mouth still smelling of suckled milk…
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