Articles By Fareeda Abdulkareem
I sat on the back sideways with my hands on the metal section of the motorcycle while my legs dangled out
I closed my eyes when we passed the slope where I had my accident.
For three months, my passport had been in the possession of the directorate of immigration.
As the days went by, I stopped counting miseries in my head and dipped back into a town that had represented all of the traps I had wanted to escape.