3 Matching Annotations
- Sep 2018
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Fear is something you get used to
I am just shocked. All of us must have experienced fear in different ways. The fear of losing someone we love, the fear of failing in anything we do, but none of us thought that this is a feeling we can get used to.
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But the new words were strangely light.
I wonder how hard not being able to translate the suffer in non-native language with other words which does not have the same power.
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the battle has been won in our favor. The enemy has been driven out of our town. The town council invites us back to reclaim our homes. Immediately I pile into a bus with my mother and sisters for the long journey back to our village, singing and ululating all the way. All I can think of is my journal, with all the poems I have written over the years. Left behind in the rush to leave, I have mourned it every day since, cursing myself for forgetting it. We climb the hill together, a key buried in my mother’s pocket, that never once left my mother’s pocket, flying the last half kilometer over jagged rocks and dried clumps of earth that were once orchards and fields. I see my mother pull out the key, ready to open the door, only to find a pile of rubble where our house once was.
It is so heartbreaking when some people are finally achieving their dream of returning back home, their hopes die at the scene of destruction of their houses, memories, and their favorite objects.
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