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Perfumer of Hearts - Mohammad Burhan
JOD
Get it by 5 Aug | Order in 5 Hours 21 Minutes
On a coming day, perhaps a Tuesday or a Thursday, at seven in the evening or a little later, a Syrian will sit with his children without the sight of blood on television or the sound of wailing from a nearby house. He will lie on his roof on a bed of tranquility, gazing at the stars without fear of them falling upon his head, listening to the chirping of crickets as if it were a symphony of survival, trying to recall the sound of bombs with a forgiving smile, and rejoicing—rejoicing in the failure of the attempt.
On that coming day, we, the terrified inhabitants, will emerge from under tables, from makeshift shelters, and from the corners of bathrooms to throw ourselves once again into the embrace of Sham. We will cast it a glance of reproach, and it will pat our heads like a tender mother who punished her misbehaving children and then regretted it—regretted being far harsher than they could ever bear.