It's always the same. The jets scream overhead. They've seen me. I'm running to slowly, dragging my mother and sister behind. In a flowerless war-torn world where every inch of land must be used to grow precious food, a young boy weaves roses in his carpets as he masters the skills that may save his family from a life of poverty. For a young refugee living with loss and terror-filled memoriers, time is measured by the next bucket of water, the next portion of bread, and the next call to prayer. Here where everything-walls, floor, courtyard-is mud, a boy's heart can still long for freedom, independence, and safety. And here, where life is terribly fragile, the strength to endure grows out of need. But the strength to dream comes from within.
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