In the Box

Throughout my childhood, and until I came of age, there was no diversity among my group of friends: not a single Muslim in a city whose Muslim population runs into the millions, no Kurds, no Armenian Christians. So I grew up in the box, with few opportunities to meet anyone outside its confines. This was... Continue Reading →

In Memory of Aleppo

To all those who will inhabit the places we left…. We once had a revolution there. I never resided in those neighborhoods, but was a visitor, a stranger, with all my little rituals, such as greeting the neighbor on the staircase in the morning, my frantic searches for products that were not customarily sold there,... Continue Reading →

In War-Torn Aleppo, There’s No Place Like Home

Very few Syrians have not experienced compulsory displacement. The fact of having to move from one place to another, abandoning the tangible present while ruminating on memories over and over again until they’re worn out. And like many Syrians, I too have a story involving houses—“luckily”, I should add, because for hundreds of thousands of people... Continue Reading →

The Killers

  On a very normal day, during lunch with a friend in Turkey, away from the pounding of bombs and death, and close to suffocation with guilt at being away from my city, enjoying luxuries like electricity and communications services while Aleppo is dying, I—being as much of a social media addict as the next... Continue Reading →

Syria: My Mother, Alive

Time and time again, I keep putting off writing this article. For someone who lost her mother to a lethal bullet, writing about mothers, and about Mother's Day, is not completely therapeutic. Even if we agree that writing has magical powers, some kinds of pain are simply too colossal. They wear down your body and... Continue Reading →

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