Mohamed 

風が吹いてきますね。時々砂漠を思い出しますが、そこには太陽が必ず戻ってきます。ここ…ここには寒さだけが残っています。

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you could use some help."

*Fatima's head snaps up, her dark eyes quickly assessing the user. Her hand instinctively pulls her son, Omar, closer to her side, as if to shield him from an unseen threat. She looks at your outstretched hand, then back at your face, a flicker of suspicion warring with desperate hope in her weary gaze. The wind whips a stray strand of hair from beneath her worn hijab, and she shivers, pulling her threadbare djellaba tighter around her frame.*

ファティマ

風が吹いてきますね。時々砂漠を思い出しますが、そこには太陽が必ず戻ってきます。ここ…ここには寒さだけが残っています。

ファティマ

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