●════════════●ஜ۩ Memories Of War ۩ஜ●════════════●
It has been said that the moments of suffering are the moments that make us who we are. What exactly are the moments of suffering? And what if we don’t remember these moments? What if we are given a chance to start all over, so we can alter something in the world? So we can tell people that what they’re doing is wrong?What if?
●════════════●ஜ۩ PART ONE ۩ஜ●════════════●
I wake up to a throbbing pain in my head, like a vessel pumping. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn’t, and I felt a bitter taste in my mouth. When I tried to cough off the bitter taste, a weird feeling of pain struck me; my head, my legs, my chest; as if all of my organs were pumping painfully along with my heart. I hear approaching voices, one saying “I think she’s regaining consciousness, I just heard her cough.”
Is she talking about me? Where am I? What is this?
I open my eyes slowly and try to adjust my vision to the bright room. Soon enough, three men and one lady, all fitted in white, surround my bed. “Good morning dear,” the lady says. I nod respectively. “How are you feeling?” She asks.
Before I can reply, I try to remember what happened to me, but I can’t remember a thing. I feel like I am new person, living life again, with a white page, a second chance.
“Not well. Where am I? Who are you?” I ask slowly.
“I am your nurse Hana, and you’re in Makassed Hospital. Here, have some water and swallow this pill.” She says, while handing me a cup of water and a light blue pill.
The three men are whispering something to each other; I was able to catch three consecutive words in their conversation: severe head injury. “Maybe that’s why I am here,” I think to myself. A man’s deep voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Good morning miss, can you tell me who you are?” He asks inquisitively.
I pause for a while, and try to remember my name. After a few unsuccessful trials, I start weeping. “I don’t know,” I reply.
The man nods to the nurse, and exits my room along with the other two men.
“These were your doctors,” my nurse says gently. “Relax now, here’s another pill so you can sleep faster.” She says as she hands me a pink colored pill and a cup of water. After I gulp down the pill, the nurse exits the room, and I feel a huge weight over my eye lids.
For the next four days, I saw the three doctors and the nurse. The doctors kept asking me questions about myself, like where I live, where I went to school, what the date is, and what my age was.
On the sixth day of my consciousness, one of the doctors declared I have post-traumatic amnesia. He explained that amnesia is memory loss, which might be permanent, partial, or temporary. He advised me to watch TV, in case I see something familiar. The nurse came the same day, but this time with food. “I brought you something to eat!” She says. “Can you tell me what this fruit is called?” She asks enthusiastically.
“Apple.” I say slowly.
“Very good,” she replies.
In a month, I was improving physically, but there was still no sign of memory regain. While watching the TV, I heard a man’s voice. “A shelter,” he was saying. “No sign of improvement,” he speaks again.
I realize they are my discussing my case, as soon as I hear him say “can’t remember her name.”
“She can stay home with me,” a familiar voice interrupts. “I live alone, and I could help her regain her memory. We haven’t tried much.” The voice adds.
Hours later, the nurse comes in my room. “You will be living with me,” she says excitedly. “Tomorrow morning I’ll get you something to wear, and you’ll finally leave this room!” she adds. “Thanks Hana,” I respond.
●════════════●ஜ۩ PART TWO ۩ஜ●════════════●
The next day, I move in Hana’s apartment. It felt very cozy and comfortable. Hana leads me to my room, and leaves me alone. Soon enough, a wide mirror captures my attention. I examine my reflection, trying to figure out my age.
“I brought orange juice,” Hana yells from a distance. “Can you open the door please?” She asks.
I open the door to see Hana holding two glasses of orange juice. “Here you go,” she says, handing me my glass. Hana sits on a sofa in my room, and asks me to sit beside her. “I really love this sofa, it’s very relaxing” Hana says casually.
“Hana?” I interrupt her story about the adventures of her sofa. “How old do I look?” I ask.
“Well, the doctors and I concluded you are either fifteen or sixteen, because you are not yet fully grown.” She explains.
“Oh, okay.” I reply.
I drank my juice, while listening to Hana speaking about her adventurous life. She was a very smart girl studying to be a doctor, but war had stopped her from pursuing her dream, so she became a nurse instead.
“Look,” Hana said. “I was thinking, um, I should call you something.”
“Sure,” I replied.
“I’ll call you Sara,” she says.
I thanked her for her company and friendliness, and then went to bed.
Hana woke me up the next day at 8:00 AM, she told me she was going to work, and that she’ll come back at 12:00 PM to take care of me. “Watch some TV, or read a book,” she suggested.
An hour later, I was reading a book called “Best Quotes”. I started reading the first chapter of the book entitled: War Quotes. I related many of those quotes to Hana’s life, and how war obliged her to give up her plans, and become a nurse instead of a doctor.
I skipped some long quotes and reached a short one by H.G Wells that said “If we don’t end war, war would end us.”
I felt my heart move and my head thump. I closed my eyes and saw something before them. A vision, no, a flashback.
“Good morning kids,” says a woman. “What is the date today?” She asks excitedly.
“12 November 2006,” We all reply loudly.
“Very good, students! You are the best 2nd graders I have ever taught!” She says, while opening her textbook and writing page 56 on the chalk board. I open my textbook casually to the right page. When I find it, I silently read the boldfaced title: Chapter 3: War
“Can anyone tell me what H. G. Wells meant by saying: “If we don’t end war, war will end us.” Says the women, who appears to be my teacher. “Judy, can you tell us?”
I stare at the sentence written on the page trying to analyze it as fast as I could.
“I think it means that war sometimes causes death and leads to destruction…” I reply nonchalantly.
“Yes, yes, but don’t you think there’s a deeper meaning for that sentence?” She asks.
I was thinking about her question when my thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind me. “I think it means that it separates people from each other, and stands in the way of true love!”
“Very good Rami! I will give you an additional mark on your previous test!” Says my teacher cheerfully.
I open my eyes, and suddenly all the pain is gone. I quake my head disbelievingly, trying to figure out if this was a real memory or a dream; it was a memory. I rush to the desk, grab a paper and a pencil, and write down: My name is Judy. Second grade. 12 November 2006. Then I write everything else that I could bear in mind.
A few hours later, the nurse comes back home.
“I brought bananas!” She says kindly.
“Thank you,” I reply. “Hana, I remembered something.” I said slowly.
“You what?! Really?” She asks excitedly. I nod. “That’s the best news ever! I am going to call the doctors. What did you remember?” She adds.
“I wrote it all down, over here.” I reply, and stand up to get my paper.
“2006, grade 2, you’re 14 years old!” She analyzes quickly. “I’m going to call the doctors.” She adds.
Later that day, I sit mutely in my room. Minutes later, I start crying. I can’t help the river of tears flowing on my cheek. I am 14 years old, with no home of mine, no family, no last name. I feel that I’m lost, and that I belong nowhere.
“Are you okay?” A voice shocks me. Hana is standing right next to me, holding a glass of water. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”
“Everything is wrong!” I reply gloomily. ”Absolutely everything!” I say again.
Hana promised me everything would be alright, tucked me in my bed, and kissed my forehead. I feel very grateful to her now, she is treating me very kindly.
The next day, Hana summoned me to sit with her around the kitchen table. She talked more about her life and her family, then she fixed me some breakfast. “Here’s your Labneh sandwich, and here’s your tea.” She says kindly.
As I digest the words in my head, another memory pops into my head. I close my eyes, and see it right in front of me.
“Good morning honey, why are you up so early? It’s Saturday.” a woman tells me gently.
“I know, but I’m really hungry.” I say. “Can you make me a Labneh sandwich and tea?”
“Sure honey, sit down.” The woman says as she spreads Labneh on a piece of bread. “Here you go.” She hands the sandwich to me, and pours tea into a mug.
A man stands up and walks towards me. “Judy, your Mom and I will be going to get some groceries from the market, so your aunt Jana is coming to take care of you. Please behave well while we’re gone.” He says soothingly.
“And don’t ever talk or open the door to strangers!” the woman adds
“Okay Dad. Okay Mom. Don’t worry.” I say as I manage to smile.
I open my eyes, then shake my head. I have obviously had another flashback.
As soon as I regain my consciousness, I hear Hana’s piercing voice in my ear. “You dropped your tea! Where were you? Did you fall asleep?!”
“No! No!” I say defensively. “I saw another flashback!” I say excitedly.
“Another flashback! Your memory is being regained my dear Judy! What did you see?” She asks.
I grab a scrapbook and a pen, then I write down everything I saw. “Parents” I read, as I wroite it down.
Hana holds the scrapbook and reads what I wrote. I can see here eyeballs moving left and right, up and down, as if she was reading between the lines.
“Let’s review,” she says. “Your name is Judy, you’re 14 years old, you have parents, you have a teacher called Miss Lynn, a classmate called Rami, and an aunt called Jana.”
I nod as I try to catch up with what she is saying.
“I will now call your doctors, and tell them the updates.” Hana says reportedly.
Hana calls the doctors and informs them about the updates.
“The doctors say that your memory would be regained in a pattern of flashbacks, so it is highly expected that you will have another flashback tomorrow. Therefore, we will wait till the day after tomorrow, if you don’t have another flashback by then, we will try to search for your identity using only these given information.” Hana says casually.
“Everything is working out just fine,” I think to myself. “I have parents, and a family, and I go to school.. Things are going to work out just fine.”
I wake up early on the next day, I was very excited about having another flashback. As I head towards the kitchen to grab a bite, I notice Hana crying on the kitchen’s table.
“Hana,” I say gently, as I look at her crying eyes. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I could do?”
Hana looks at me sympathetically and says: “I could always use a shoulder to cry on.”
I sit next to Hana and give her a hug, and then, I listen avidly about her tragedy. It turns out Hana had a husband, who was shot during the war, a month after their marriage, near his mother’s house. He was 30 years old, and Hana was 29 years old.
“On this day, 6 years ago,” Hana says at last. “A man I loved dearly was shot by a sniper of sect A. Both the sect, and the sniper will pay the price one day.”
Hana went to her room to get some rest. Meanwhile, I sat on the sofa to clear my head and watch some TV.
I flipped between the channels until I found a drama show that captured my attention.
“I can’t understand you,” the woman in the drama show said.
“What can’t you understand? If we keep on doing what we are doing now, nothing is going to be okay.” The man replied.
“Nothing is going to be okay.” The words are echoing in my head, over, and over again. “Nothing is going to be okay.”
“The man’s tone, his facial expressions, they all look very familiar!” I think to myself.
I continue staring and the TV screen absent minded.
“This is a conspiracy against us, this is war!” The man in the show says loudly.
2 minutes after the man said that phrase, I could hear it inside my head. “Nothing is going to be okay. This is war.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and see another flashback.
“Nothing is going to be okay, do you even know what war is? It means no food, no clothes, no life! Rana, listen to me, our priorities must be set straight. Tomorrow, we should go to the grocery shop and buy as much as food as we can. You have to help me with all this, I can’t do this alone. We have to take care of our kids! Little Lina should enter this world seeing happy people, not one’s who cannot afford to live.” I see dad yelling.
“I understand what you are going through, you are worried about your family. But don’t you think you are exaggerating? Walid, it’s not even an official war yet!” Mom replies.
“God! Rana! Can’t you see? This is war, or at least the beginning of it. Today, the conflicts were in Ras El Nabeh, but by tomorrow, they will definitely spread and reach us here in Mar Elias. Tomorrow, we must call my sister Jana to take care of the kids by the time we aren’t here.” Dad says.
“Alright. Let’s hope she wouldn’t be busy at that time. Good night honey.” I hear Mom say.
As usual, I hurried to write everything I saw down on a paper, and then I told Hana.
“Thank God! I needed to hear such happy news!” She said enthusiastically.
As Hana skims through what I wrote, I observe her expressions. Her eyes look very red and drenched with tears. Her nose pink and slightly wet.
“Let’s go!” She says suddenly.
“Where to?” I ask.
Hana explains that we have to go to police office and to the mayor. From the police office, we get the permission to ask about a family tree, and from the mayor, we get the information.
●════════════●ஜ۩ PART THREE ۩ஜ●════════════●
Hours later, we have already given the mayor our permission, and we were waiting for some answers.
“Rana and Walid. Lina and Judy. Hmm.” The mayor was murmuring. “Here they are,” he says at last.
I could feel my heart beat very loudly, Here’s the moment I’ve been waiting for; here’s who I am.
“Rana Itani and Walid Wehbe had 3 kids; Judy Wehbe, Ziad Wehbe, and Lina Wehbe. Judy was born in October of 1998, and so was her twin brother Ziad. Lina was born in December 2006.” The man reads.
I have a twin brother. I have a family. I actually belong somewhere!
”Rana, Walid, and Ziad all died during the war.” He reads. “Leaving baby Lina in the hands of her grandma, Salma Itani who works…”
My ears were deafened, my eyes were blinded, my heart was stopped. I feel very weak.
“Judy, Judy, are you awake?” I can hear Hana say. “Oh thank God, your eyes are open, you fainted at the mayor’s desk!” She said worriedly, “Are you feeling okay?” She asks.
I feel a mixture of unpleasant feelings; anxiety, anger, sadness, bitterness; all pressing on my heart.
“Feeling okay?” I say at last. “Hana, haven’t you heard? My parents and my brother are dead, they are dead!” I cried.
Hana embraced me and said: “At least you have other family members, who love you.”
The next day, I wake up very hungry. As usual, I head towards the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich. As I was spreading Nutella on my bun, I heard a very weird sound, “bleed envy” I almost heard it say. I dropped my spoon and searched for it’s source, which appeared to be Hana’s room. As I approached, I could hear the words much clearly “Walid Wehbe,” she was saying. I opened my eyes widely, why is Hana saying my father’s name? I knock on Hana’s door, and open it when I hear the words “come in.” Hana was lying on the bed, holding a magazine before her face.
“Hey sweetie,” she said in a weak voice.
“Hey, what happened to your voice?” I asked.
Hana cleared her throat, “nothing, it’s alright.” She says.
“Hana,” I try again. “What were you saying about my father, why were you saying his name?” I ask.
Hana drops the magazine and looks at me. Her eyes are soaked with tears and her nose is very red. I am gazing at her crying eyes, trying to figure out what is happening.
“Hana!” I exclaim anxiously. “What happened to you?” I asked
Hana asked me to come sit on the bed next to her, and told me something not one part of me could believe.
“My father is not a killer!” I exclaimed loudly.
“He was the boss of the snipers, which makes him as much of a killer as they are.” Hana replied.
“Stop it! Stop this! My father would have never killed your husband, he could have never killed anything. You are accusing him; and people accuse others because they want to hide what they did.” I say accusingly. “Or what their husbands did.” I add.
“Judy, I would never lie to you. If my husband killed your father, why is he dead now? And how do you know he would not kill anything, it’s not that you remember him!”
I hurry to my room, covering my face with my hands, and holding my tears. I lie on the bed all day, thinking about my life, my father, Hana’s husband, and different sects in Lebanon. I pick up a book called “Sectioning Lebanon” and read about the different sects and their history. Every now and then, I cried, not only do I have no family, but also I have had a killer father. Before I finally fell asleep, I head towards the kitchen to eat something; “I might die of hunger,” I think to myself. I see Hana sitting on the kitchen’s table, looking straight at her husband’s picture, gawking at it, stagnant. As soon as she notices me, she puts it down. “Here” she says as she hands me two burgers with fries. “I was going to get them to you in a while.” She adds. As I head towards the room again, I feel the need to talk to her, but I continue my way. Before I reach the door, I hear a loud voice, “I’m sorry,” the voice said.
“I’m sorry too,” I murmur.
Right before I fell asleep, I imagined how my brother Ziad looked. “If we were twins,” I thought, “we would have looked alike!”
I closed my eyes, preparing to sleep, but an image in my head kept appearing to me, then another, and another. Before I knew it, I was having a flashback.
As I reach a house, I ring the bell, but no one opens the door.
“Where could she be?” I say disappointedly.
The boy next to me, who appears to be my brother Ziad, doesn’t answer. Instead, he checks if any of the windows are open. To my surprise, there is one.
“Come on,” he says, as he throws his bag into the house.
We manage to get into the house and throw our bags near the window. We hurry to see if anyone is home, but turns out no one is.
“Call Mom,” Ziad says in an urging tone.
“Why don’t you call her? Can’t you see? I’m trying to watch TV here!” I say while sitting on the sofa comfortably.
Ziad dials the number and lifts the phone to his ear.
“Mom! Where are you? We are so worried! Why are you late?” Ziad asks worriedly. “Oh okay, cool, bye Mom.” He adds.
“What did she say?” I ask Ziad.
“She said something came up and that she’d be here in 10 minutes or so.”
“Something came up? What thing? Ugh, this cannot be good.” I complain.
I turn my attention to the big title on the TV that says “Breaking News! 3 dead and 6 injured civilians in Ras El Nabeh, Beirut.”
Conflicts! That’s what came up!
“Ziad, Ziad! Come quick! Apparently there are conflicts in Ras El Nabeh!” I say excitedly .
“That’s what Mom was talking about! That’s the thing that came up!” He replies.
Ziad and I both turn to look at the door being unlocked.
“Mom!” Ziad and I say anxiously.
“Hey kids! Sorry I’m late.” She says. “Oh, I see you have seen the news. Don’t worry, I am sure everything would be just fine; conflicts are a part of Lebanese citizens’ life” She adds.
“Can these conflicts cause war?” Ziad asks.
“Honey, let’s not think about this now.” Mom replies as she prepares lunch.
I open my eyes, get out of bed, and as usual, I write down everything I saw.
After 8 hours of sleep, I get dressed and prepare to find somewhere I truly belong to. I knock on Hana’s door and ask her to come to the Mayor’s office with me.
At the mayor’s office, we ask where my grandma lives, but the mayor could not find out. He locates the area as “Mazraa” but he doesn’t know the exact location.
I leave the mayor’s office with absolute disappointment.
“I belong nowhere.” I say as I wipe the tears off my cheek.
“Judy, you do belong somewhere.” Hana replies.”You belong with me, as a friend, a sister, a neighbor, I will always love you, and you will always belong.”
I embrace Hana. I feel more grateful to her than to anyone in the world.
On our way home, I look out the window to get some fresh air, and to clear my head. I notice a familiar house. “Stop!” I tell Hana.
I explained to Hana that I had another flashback yesterday, and that this house looks familiar to the one I saw. We get out of the car, and walk towards the house.
“This is it, I remember the window, and the doors. I remember it!” I exclaim.
My hand reaches the doorbell and presses it. An old lady opens the door. “Can I help you?” She asks.
“Are you Salma Wehbe?” Hana replies.
“Yes I am, who is asking?” Grandma replies.
“I am Hana Sabra and this is Judy Wehbe, your granddaughter.” Hana explains.
“Judy? Oh, it’s Judy! I knew your face looks familiar! Come on in, please!” Grandma exclaims.
We enter Grandma’s house, where there are many photos of me, Ziad, Mom, and Dad. I captured Hana looking at a picture of my father, then moved her head away at once.
“Please, sit down,” Grandma says.
Hana and I both sit down, still fascinated by the many pictures of me.
“Judy, where have you been all this time?” Grandma asks.
Before I reply, I notice a framed part of a newspaper behind Grandma’s head. The title of the paper says: “Judy Wehbe missing.”
I stand up, and walk towards the paper in surprise. “This is me,” I say unconsciously
●════════════●ஜ۩ PART FOUR ۩ஜ●════════════●
Hana stands up and walks in my direction. She takes the framed part of the newspaper and starts reading what’s written, out loud.
“Judy Walid Wehbe was reported missing on 29 November, 2006. She was staying with her family members Walid Wehbe, Rana Itani, and Ziad Wehbe in a bunker near their house in Mar Elias. The family claims that Judy wasn’t in the bunker when they reported her missing, so she must have had escaped looking for them. Her family is currently offering a large sum of money to the person who finds her. Any information about her must be given to the following numbers 03 887329 and 01 392927.”
Hana and I exchange looks, what is happening?
“You don’t know?” Grandma asks us astonishingly.
“No, we don’t,” replies Hana. “You see, Hana lost her memory, and we don’t know anything about her life.”
Grandma looks at me and Hana, then she asks us to sit down.
For the next four hours, we heard about my family, how they reacted to my absence, how Lina was born, how they all died but Lina, and how Grandma inherited this house.
I was lost in the bunker, and my family tried their best to find me, with no use. They suspected that I might’ve been dead, murdered, or kidnapped… But no one was sure of any of these suspicions.
Lina was born a month afterwards, my Mother almost died during the delivery, she was suffering from depression due to my absence.
Mom, Dad, and Ziad died on October 2008, all at the same time, in a car accident. Lina stayed with Grandma at that day, grandma took care of her while Mom and Dad were at work, and Ziad was in school.
“After Walid’s death,” Grandma says, “I inherited this house, while Lina inherited another. No one thought you were alive, that’s why your inheritance wasn’t taken into consideration.”
A moment later, someone rings the doorbell.
“It’s probably Lina,” says Grandma.
I focus all my attention on the door, soon enough, my sister will enter.
Grandma opens the door, and a young beautiful girl appears. Grandma introduces me as her long-lost sister.
“A sister? I’ve always wanted one!” Lina says enthusiastically. “I’m Lina, and you are?”
“I’m Judy,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet you!”
After a long day of events, Hana and I head home. I couldn’t help recalling what happened: Meeting my family members, like Grandma and Lina. Knowing what happened to me and to my family. It was a very eventful and productive day.
Before I can continue with my optimism, I recall what grandma says about my family’s death. I cry a little, then wipe my tears. “Thank God I still have Lina and Grandma!” I think to myself.
I wonder what happened to me by the time I was lost. Was I adopted? Was I alone, begging on the streets? Was I working?
“We’re here,” Hana interrupts my thoughts.
After we enter Hana’s house, I ask Hana if I can have a word with her.
We have a long conversation about what’s going to happen next. I thank her for her pleasant company and her altruism, then go to my room.
I lay on the bed and think.
Hana is a good person, her husband was too.
My father would’ve been very sorry if he knew what he did.
The thing between Hana’s husband and my father was nothing personal.
My father was the reason Hana’s husband died.
I stop at the last thought; I can’t continue like this, I have to talk to Hana.
I head out the door and into the living room.
“Hana, I’m so sorry. My dad…” I say tearfully.
“No, Judy, I’m so sorry.” Hana interrupts me sympathetically. “You had nothing to do with it. Neither do I. Life is like that, different sects are blinded by their differences, they can’t notice their superfluous similarities. I shouldn’t have told you about your father, he isn’t a bad person, and neither is my husband. The community that made everyone believe that people of different sects must be abolished, and only one sect must win; this community is not only bad, but also cruel.”
“I love you!” I say loudly.
“I do too,” she replies.
●════════════●ஜ۩ PART FIVE ۩ஜ●════════════●
The next day was the best day I’ve lived (or at least the best day I remember living).
Hana and I baked a cake and spent the whole day at Grandma’s house. We all took pictures together, and I met my aunts and uncles as well. Most importantly, I got to know my little sister, we played together and laughed together, everything was just perfect.
The day afterwards, I woke up early in the morning, I wanted to surprise Hana with a good-bye breakfast. I was making different kinds of sandwiches and baking crescents. I even got her a newspaper and put it on the corner of the table.
I finished my preparation before Hana woke up, so I waited for her while reading the newspaper. I flipped to my favorite part of celebrity news and new fashion lines, which follows the page of ‘Lost and Found’.
As I reached the celebrity gossip page, I noticed a very familiar face in a picture to the right of the page.
I read what it said “Lost Maid, if found, please call 70 447759 or 01 448859.”
I’m a maid?
Tears come rushing down my eyes. “How could I be a maid? I am Judy Wehbe, I am the daughter of Walid Wehbe, and I have pictures to prove it!” I think to myself.
Before I can continue my denial, I realized something: I was a maid. That’s it! The time I wasn’t home, the time I was lost, a family took care of me, and gave me a job as a maid.
By the time I reach that conclusion, Hana enters the kitchen. She looks at my face and realizes I was crying.
“Hana,” I say, before she could’ve said anything. “I was a maid by the time I was lost. I know who I am now, all the pieces came back together.”
I hand Hana the paper and point at my photo.
I could see how astonished she was, it’s like we all thought one part of my life will always remain a mystery.
Hana looks at me tearfully and says: “Oh Judy, look at this! Look how God planned this, notice every little detail. You remembered your family, your blood connections, so you can go back where you belong. This is where you belong, with people who love you and treat you not as a maid, but as a sister, or as a daughter, no matter how different you might be.”
Hana turns the newspaper to it’s back, “read this,” she says.
As I take the newspaper from Hana’s hand, I could clearly read the title, “Sisters of Different Sects”
We might not realize it, but we judge people, according to their age, gender, and religion… Whereas we have to treat every person according to his character, regardless of his background.
Memories don’t only help us figure out who we are, but also who we should be. It is time that we learn from our mistakes, and stop censoring people. If you want someone to blame, start with yourself, because change starts with ONE person.
Illustrations By SG
This Story is shared By Kamr Tumblr Link : http://lifes-a-swirl7.tumblr.com/