Migrants stories, books, poems, and more

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migrants, priorities, ptsd, turkish
‘Stupid me! How couldn’t you control your desires...’ One last breath and he put it out with his heel, then quickening the steps. He stopped at the traffic lights. In a few minutes he would see his maternal uncle; he had to pull himself together right away. ‘O Neriman, what… Read More

Tags: migrants, turkish

that low, hollow, heavy sound that brings to mind the thinks we came here to forget. Read More
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