Regardless of how Biafrans like to romanticize war, there’s nothing good about it: blood is spilt, generations are wiped out, hunger turns human beings into kwashiorkor patients, people are displaced, terror reigns, plans people had for their lives are upturned and love becomes a casualty.
So once upon a time… I move to America and settle into this apartment complex that has a small lake by it and I spend every day there writing. After a couple weeks I notice a Bosnian family that comes to have coffee by the lake too. They have two daughters, older than me.
— Arnesa (@Rrrrnessa) December 16, 2017
Damn, these onions.