Please read this thread and if you have the means to help Ruaa, she is suffering so much.
Reposted from
It’s Ruaa
Seven hours under the sun, feet blistered and bleeding,
just to return with a moldy piece of cheese and a body closer to collapse.
I dream of simple things:
A cup of coffee that doesn’t smell like war.
A plate of potatoes that isn’t a memory
A chair, a roof, silence not from death, but from peace
just to return with a moldy piece of cheese and a body closer to collapse.
I dream of simple things:
A cup of coffee that doesn’t smell like war.
A plate of potatoes that isn’t a memory
A chair, a roof, silence not from death, but from peace
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