Issa, with his blondish hair, dark skin, and dissatisfied eyes, sits with me on the half-done stone wall he's building for us, and we look out over the fence at his village and then strain to see through the yellow air to the sea. Rocks, houses, sheep, hills, and trees stand stock quiet still in the landscape, outlined in black as I wait chilled at the fence for Majd and her child Two specialists are already there to examine the child by the time we get to die hospital. Majd pulls her neat white scarf over her eyes; the baby does not even blink The third specialist arrives breathless from running up the stairs, his eyes blue smoke encompassed by exhaustion.
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