Waleed Bishara Quotes in Refugee
Mahmoud watched as these two boys attacked the boy with the bread, a boy he didn’t even know. He felt the stirrings of indignation, of anger, of sympathy. His breath came quick and deep, and his hands clenched into fists. “I should do something,” he whispered. But he knew better.
Head down, hoodie up, eyes on the ground. The trick was to be invisible. Blend in. Disappear.
Everywhere around them, people fled into the streets, covered in gray dust and blood. No sirens rang. No ambulances came to help the wounded. No police cars or emergency crews hurried to the scene.
There weren’t any left.
Mahmoud screamed.
He howled louder than a fighter jet, and his parents didn’t even tell him to hush. Lights came on in houses nearby, and curtains ruffled as people looked out at the noise. Mahmoud’s mother broke down in tears, and his father let the life jackets he carried drop to the ground.
The smuggler had just told them their boat wasn’t leaving tonight.
Again.
“No boat today. Tomorrow. Tomorrow,” he’d told Mahmoud’s father.
Waleed Bishara Quotes in Refugee
Mahmoud watched as these two boys attacked the boy with the bread, a boy he didn’t even know. He felt the stirrings of indignation, of anger, of sympathy. His breath came quick and deep, and his hands clenched into fists. “I should do something,” he whispered. But he knew better.
Head down, hoodie up, eyes on the ground. The trick was to be invisible. Blend in. Disappear.
Everywhere around them, people fled into the streets, covered in gray dust and blood. No sirens rang. No ambulances came to help the wounded. No police cars or emergency crews hurried to the scene.
There weren’t any left.
Mahmoud screamed.
He howled louder than a fighter jet, and his parents didn’t even tell him to hush. Lights came on in houses nearby, and curtains ruffled as people looked out at the noise. Mahmoud’s mother broke down in tears, and his father let the life jackets he carried drop to the ground.
The smuggler had just told them their boat wasn’t leaving tonight.
Again.
“No boat today. Tomorrow. Tomorrow,” he’d told Mahmoud’s father.
