Hero kicked aside his bakya as he rushed barefoot out the door, down the wooden…

Fifty Men پنجاه نفر

پنجاه نفر… گفتنش آسان است گفتنش… پنجاه خانه بدون مرد شدن می­ دانی یعنی چی؟…


Listen to Mac Donald Dixon, read “Blood Islands” In the beginning there was nothing, nothing…

That Is My Building

A shed as big as a nest, 

Roofed with torn plastics and tarpaulins, 

Fenced with tiny slices of bamboo

The Invisible Barbed Wire

I heard my name “Hussan Sa Rezi” on the loudspeaker. Puzzled, I looked at my cellmate for confirmation. During my whole imprisonment, the security guards hadn’t pronounced my name right. My cellmate nodded that it was my name among a list of thirty refugees who would be released from Balikpapan refugee prison.

Innocent Deer

In one of the remote forests in Sudan, a group of animals lived in peace.…

Gull-Chaman and Lindy Banks

I developed a passion for writing. I began by painting my own suffering in words. As I continued practicing writing as therapy, I realized it was an effective way to connect with the wider world. I shared my writing on social media. I described the hardships and injustice that we refugees faced due to the barbaric incompetence of those responsible for running the detention system. 

The Geography of Love جغرافیای عشق

I am certain

That one day the sun will be jealous

Of the heat of my desire

Diary from Kabul: I had many dreams

I am a girl. I am 19 years old. I am from Kabul. I am from Afghanistan. I started school when I was a young girl. I wanted to be an engineer. I wanted to build my country.

Mohammad Asif Rezaie


A Memorial to Asif Reziae


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