kissed By God
Kissed by God Handala: a symbol fit for all refugees Standing in what was once home, she wanted to have a last look at the apartment and find something, a souvenir to take back with her from her childhood home. Like a clogged artery, the corridor connecting the chambers was long and narrow. Barely two people could walk through it. Her room, at one end of the corridor, was the smallest. The red curtains are still drooping; a handmade mirror is fixed on the door next to a hand-painted hanger. The rest of the room was empty. Small but cozy, small places never bothered her. She stared at herself in the mirror. The smell of mold hitting her nose made her realize for the first time the relative poverty she grew up in. Now, she understands poverty more because she has a bigger and warmer home, larger rooms, and non-moldy walls. But she understood love, gratitude, and sacrifice when she felt the bone simmering cold of brick walls ...