Kurdistan squats over a mound of soil that the she and her friends have piled up, they giggle, marveling at the ‘mountain’ they’ve built with their hands. They excitedly use their fingers as mountain climbers on an expedition, laughing gleefully as they get dirt in their nails. There is nothing more resilient than a child’s spirit; with just some dirt and imagination, the children convulse in laughter.Read More
I haven't posted anything in here for almost a week because I have been, somewhat, struggling to come to terms with my own distant reality. The truth is that when I first started sharing these stories on my social media platforms, I shared it because I want to start a conversation among my circle of friends. I wanted to raise awareness through stories that humanise people who seems to be so far away from us. To put a face to their stories. But over time, that reason slowly changed. Recently, I started posting stories more because I do not want to forget them instead. It is more for me than it is meant for you. So this becomes like a diary that I can look back many years down. There were moments when I panic if I had forgotten someone's name or a particular flow of a story. I would desperately scramble through my memories for that loose and missing piece. So I tried my best to keep up with this. But I am afraid to stop thinking about them. I don't know what would happen if it comes to that.
I feel like that could be the worst thing that can happen to anyone searching for hope - to be forgotten.