APOLOGY FOR BEING ALIVE I feared I wouldn’t be able to go back to my former life after the war ended, but I did. It felt so awkward. Everything was normal and people were acting as usual. How did I go back to my life, loaded with the guilt of being alive, of breathing? I apologise for being alive. I apologise to the son who asked his dad to bring him some chocolate, but he got neither chocolate nor his dad. I apologise to the boy who wanted to see the sky, but it was the last thing he saw. I apologise to the people who went to an UNRWA school believing it was safer, a haven, but it was their
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