Refugee The Diary Of Ali Ismail -

The engine dies. The sea is black and greedy.

Today, I stopped being a number.

If this diary finds you, build something. Not a wall. A door. refugee the diary of ali ismail

But tonight, I am a cartographer.

We don’t run away from death. We scoop it out with our finest possessions. The engine dies

I realized something strange:

If you are reading this, and you have a house key on a ring in your pocket, please understand: I am not a burden. I am an export. refugee the diary of ali ismail

We are not asking for your pity. Pity is a hand that stays closed.