mornin'

In the corner of the mint green “office” the little curly haired boy’s smile barely showed over the edge of the table. He was happy to have attention and to be drawing with his Dad. His Dad drew a simple airplane with a straight face obviously not knowing how or what to do with emotions. The baby girl tearlessly wimpered on her mother’s lap as a robe prohibited access to her only source of food. The mother briefly mentioned to the interpreter, an Egyptian girl who grew up in Jersey and was struggling through Sudanese Arabic this early in the morning at 10am, that she was raped once but “weirdly” tortured by the guards. Oddly enough, I would like a banana...