Sometimes your friends just happen to be in the Middle East and then in the country where you live. And then they’re willing to drive to your dusty little town and sit in the homes of the refugees you love and drink Turkish coffee and hear the story of the refugee- the heartbreaking story about fleeing a land that is home. And these friends, they are ones who listen. They listen really carefully because they understand that the story of the person who sits before them is their story too. That the pain comes from the same thread of injustice that has continued for generation after generation and that it can and must be stopped. And that we can each have a part in making that happen. These two are making waves. Thanks for your enormous hearts,@nialauryn + @sophiabush. And thanks for taking the time to listen.
She can still feel the chill of the coldness, bitterness of the people who’d held her. Azgeda. Just HEARING the name, thinking it, makes a tremor run deeply through her and she has to pause a moment. Though that may be due to her wounds screaming, aching muscles, all three reasons combined together. Costia has been wondering for who knows how long, and missing even longer. A stab of fear comes to her ( what if the clan has left, what if they’ve moved on ) as she continues to tread on. She knows she’s close to home now, the air is warmer, it’s more familiar. Now she just has to hope whoever it is she’s heard walking , the footsteps are quiet but she’s so used to silence now it’s easy to pick up on it, towards her is FRIENDLY.