I’m mourning Arabic, which my children will no longer learn in school. And I’m mourning the bougainvillea in my garden—my companions, my beauties, my trees with infinite iridescent flowers like thousands of windows.
I’m mourning Arabic, which my children will no longer learn in school. And I’m mourning the bougainvillea in my garden—my companions, my beauties, my trees with infinite iridescent flowers like thousands of windows.