Funny how years go by and one of the most things people have in memory are moments of sorrow and blood. I might not have reached an age where I can talk about decades of experience. Although I’m in my late 20s I have witnessed more than half a dozen wars in my country. My father before me witnessed wars and civil war; my grandfather witnessed two world wars (true far from our region but had its effects).

Like all people in my country, we all had our share of wars. As a nation, we never had rest from conflicts and if some year by chance we had some relief it will always be ruined by some mercenaries. I never had a moment of peace from the day I woke on this earth and for what? For making our lives better, for improving our way of living, and for the sake of our comfort. All that I have seen since my birth was misery, sorrow, agony, hatred, and betrayal and all who tried to rise against these vices were called idealists, fools or even worse those people were called “who don’t know how to play the game.” Yes, for most of them, it’s just a game, what kind of game? I don’t know and I don’t care, for them “the politicians” we are just some pawns on a board of chess if they lost it wouldn’t matter to them because it’s like any other piece.

​Yes, I lived in a country that took from me, took my childhood, and took from my teen years, drove me away like millions before me to migrate and forsake what was before a sanctuary for philosophers, writers, and artists and now it became a whore house for warlords and thieves.​