Pedro-Or-Something.





Home.
Message.
Links/Etc.
Index.
Theme.

faruhanu:

en-chain:

It’s 1947 and before I board the train, I watch my neighbours kill their neighbours. Then my uncle presses the train ticket into my palm and says a prayer into his palms. They’re stained with days old blood and wounded with war scars. He tells me to go to Pakistan. 

Wow.

^ Scroll to Top