She’s lying on the asphalt. Her small belly, her chest, her forehead, her hands, her cold feet bare in the night. A hungry cat paces. Shrapnel rings as it hits neighboring houses already bombed. The cat grows hungrier. The cat sees the girl, her wounds still warm. Hungrier. The girl’s father lies next to her […]

Original source: https://www.nybooks.com/articles/2024/03/21/the-moon-mosab-abu-toha/